THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

Pre  THE  UNIVERSITY 
a*  OF  CALIFORNIA 
,„.  LOS  ANGELES 

Fr,  GIFT  OF 

4*        California  State  Library 

take 
shall 
son  i 
brar 
bene 
and' 

ofar 

State,  for  his  per  diem,  allowance, 


st'itc  tor  iiis  i-i^j  uiciri,  •***»***• 

satined  that  such  member  or  officer  has  returned  all 
books  taken  out  of  the  Library  by  him,  and  has  settled 
all  accounts  for  injuring  such  books  or  otherwise 

SEC  15  Books  may  be  taken  from  the  Library  by  the 
members  of  the  Legislature  and  its  officers  during  the 
session  of  the  same,  and  at  any  time  by  the  Governor  and 
the  officers  of  the  Executive  Department  of  this  State, 
who  are  required  to  keep  their  offices  at  the  seat  of 
government,  the  Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  At- 
torney-General and  the  Trustees  of  the  Library. 


WHAT    SHE    COULD. 


By  the  Author  of 
"THE    WIDE    WIDE     WORLD." 


THE    OLD    HELMET. 

A  TALK.    $2.25. 

"The  story  is  admirably  told,  and  its  lessons  are  many  and  valuable  " 
— Christian  Herald. 

n. 
MELBOURNE    HOUSE. 

$2.00. 

In  this  work  Miss  Warner  has  given  us  another  of  those  bright  and 
beautiful  creations,  like  "  Ellen  Montgomery "  and  "  Fleda,"  which 
become  ever  after  a  part  of  ourselves  The  little  girl,  around  whom  the 
interest  centres  in  "  Melbourne  House,"  is  called  "  Daisy."  We  predict 
for  her  as  great  a  success  as  attended  any  of  her  sisters. 

III. 

THE   WORD    SERIES. 

1.  WALKS  PROM  EDEN  ...  $1.50 

2.  HOUSE  OF  ISRAEL 1.50 

8.  THE  STAB  OUT  OF  JACOB.    By  Miss  Anna  Warner  ....    1.60 

"  When  Miss  Warner's  works  of  fiction  first  came  before  the  world,  the 
most  noticeable  feature  in  them  was  the  familiarity  with  Scripture  which 
they  everywhere  displayed.  The  gifted  author  has  evidently  been  from 
childhood  a  close  and  careful  student  of  God's  Word.  The  present  work 
is  an  attempt  to  bring  out  into  strong  relief  before  the  imagination  the 
great  facts  of  the  Bible,  with  its  train  of  actors,  as  to  see  them  in  the  cir- 
cumstances and  coloring,  the  light  and  shade,  of  their  actual  existence. 
The  work  is  well  done.  It  shows  study  and  research,  and  she  has  thrown 
around  it  the  charms  of  a  vivid  imagination,  which  will  make  the  study 
Inviting  to  the  young.  We  commend  it  most  cordially."  —  S.  S.  Times. 


ROBERT   CARTER  AND  BROTHERS, 

New  York. 


'WHAT    SHE   COULD." 


THE  AUTHOR  OF 
"THE    WIDE    WIDE    WORLD.' 


,TT 


NEW  YORK: 

ROBERT  CARTER  AND  BROTHERS, 

530,  BROADWAY 

1873. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 

ROBERT  CARTER  AND  BROTHERS, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


CAMBRIDGE: 
PRESS  Of  JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON 


"WHAT    SHE    COULD." 


CHAPTER    I. 

IRLS,  there's  a  band ! " 
"A  what?" 

«  A  band  —  in  the  Sunday  School." 

"  I  am  sure  there  is  a  careless  girl  in  the 
house,"  put  in  another  speaker.  "  Go  and  wipe 
your  feet,  Maria :  look  at  the  snow  you  have 
brought  in." 

"But  mamma"  — 

"  Go  and  get  rid  of  that  snow  before  you 
say  another  word.  And  you  too,  Matilda, — 
see,  child,  what  lumps  of  snow  are  sticking 
to  your  shoes.  Was  there  no  mat  at  the 
door?" 


932588 


8  "WHAT  SHE   COULD," 

"  There  was  a  cold  wind  there,"  muttered 
Maria  as  she  went  to  obey  orders.  "  What 
harm  does  a  little  snow  do  ?  " 

But  while  she  went  to  the  door  again, 
her  sister,  a  pretty,  delicate  child  of  fewer 
years,  stood  still  and  adroitly  slipped  her  feet 
out  of  the  snowy  shoes  she  had  brought  in, 
which  she  put  in  the  corner  of  the  fireplace  to 
thaw  and  dry  off;  the  little  stocking  feet 
standing  comfortably  on  the  rug  before  the 
blaze.  It  was  so  neatly  done,  the  mother  and 
elder  sisters  looked  on  and  could  not  chide. 
Neatness  suited  the  place.  The  room  was 
full  of  warm  comfort;  the  furniture  in  nice 
order;  the  work,  several  kinds  of  which  were 
in  as  many  hands,  though  lying  about  also  on 
chairs  and  tables,  had  yet  the  look  of  order 
and  method.  You  would  have  said  at  once 
that  there  was  something  good  in  the  family. 
The  child  in  front  of  the  fire  told  more  for  it. 
Her  delicate  features,  the  refined  look  and 
manner  with  which  she  stood  there  in  her 
uncovered  feet,  even  a  little  sort  of  fastidious 


"  WHA  T  SHE    COULD."  9 

grace  which  one  or  two  movements  testified, 
drew  the  eyes  of  mother  and  sisters  and 
manifestly  stopped  their  tongues ;  even  called 
forth  a  smile  or  two. 

"  What  is  all  this  Maria  is  talking  about, 
Matilda?" 

"  Why  we  have  been  to  the  Sunday  school 
meeting,  mamma." 

"  I  know  that ;  and  it  was  not  a  night  fit 
for  you  to  go.  What  ever  possessed  you  and 
Maria  ?  "  remarked  one  of  the  sisters. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Richmond  wanted  to  see  all  the 
Sunday  School,"  said  Matilda  thoughtfully. 
"He  wanted  you  too,  I  suppose;  and  you 
were  not  there." 

"  There  is  no  use  in  having  a  meeting  such  a 
night.  Of  course,  a  great  many  people  could 
not  be  there.  It  ought  to  have  been  put  off." 

"  Well,  it  was  not  put  off,"  said  Matilda. 

"What  did  he  want?  What  was  Maria 
talking  about?" 

"  She  is  the  best  one  to  ask,"  said  the  child. 
At  the  same  moment  Maria  came  in  from 


10  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

getting  rid  of  the  snow,  and  enquired  if  Tilly 
had  told  them  everything  ?  Finding  all  was 
right,  she  sat  down  contentedly  before  the  fire 
and  stretched  out  her  feet  towards  it 

"  We've  had  a  splendid  time,  I  can  tell  you," 
she  began. 

"  What  was  done  in  particular  ?  "  asked  one 
of  the  older  girls,  who  was  making  a  bonnet. 
"More  than  usual?" 

«  A  great  many  things  in  particular,  and  one 
in  general.  We've  made  a  Band." 

"  I  have  made  several  since  you  have  been 
away,"  the  other  sister  remarked. 

"  You  know  we  cannot  understand  that 
unless  you  explain,"  said  the  bonnet-maker. 

"  You  must  let  Maria  take  her  own  man- 
ner," said  their  mother. 

«  WeU  now  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it,"  said 
Maria.  "  There  weren't  a  great  many  people 
there,  to  begin  with." 

"  Of  course  not !  such  a  night." 

"  So  there  were  plenty  of  empty  benches, 
and  it  didn't  look  like  a  meeting  at  all,  at  first ; 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  II 

and  I  wondered  if  it  would  come  to  anything ; 
but  then  Mr.  Richmond  came  in,  and  I  saw 
Tie  meant  something." 

"  Mr.  Richmond  always  does  mean  some- 
thing," interrupted  Matilda. 

"  You  hush,  Tilly.  Well,  there  were  prayers 
first,  of  course ;  and  then  Mr.  Richmond  stood 
up  in  the  aisle  and  said  he  wanted  to  know 
how  many  of  us  all  there  were  willing  to  be 
really  good." 

«  The  servants  of  Christ,  he  said,"  Matilda 
explained. 

"  Yes,  the  servants  of  Christ,  of  course ;  and 
he  said  he  didn't  know  any  better  way  to  get 
at  it  than  that  we  should  all  stand  up." 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  all  Maria's  audi- 
ence a  little  confused  her.  Only  Matilda 
looked  gravely  at  her  sister,  as  if  she  were 
making  bad  work  of  it.  Maria  coloured, 
stammered,  and  began  again. 

"  You  all  know  what  I  mean !  You  know 
what  I  mean,  mamma.  Mr.  Richmond  did 
not  say  that  we  should  all  stand  up." 


12  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

"  Then  why  did  you  say  it  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  would  understand.  He  said 
that  all  those  should  stand  up,  so  that  he  might 
see  who  they  were,  who  were  willing  to  be 
real  workers  for  Christ ;  those  who  were  will- 
ing to  give  themselves  to  the  Lord,  and  to  do 
everything  or  anything  he  gave  them  to  do  for 
him.  So  we  stood  up,  and  Mr.  Richmond 
went  round  and  took  our  names  down." 

"  Everybody  who  was  there  ?  " 

"  Why  no !  —  those  who  were  willing  to  do 
as  Mr.  Richmond  said." 

"  Did  you  stand  up?  "  asked  one  of  her  sisters. 

«Yes— I  did." 

"  Who  else  ?  "  —  after  a  pause. 

"  O  a  great  many  people.  All  the  members 
of  the  church,  of  course ;  and  then  a  good 
many  more  that  aren't.  Esther  Trembleton 
rose ;  and  Ailie  Swan  ;  and  Mattie  Van  Dyke ; 
and  Frances  Barth  ;  and  Mrs.  Rice.  And 
little  Mary  Edwards,  she  was  there  and  she 
rose,  and  Willie  Edwards;  and  Mr.  Bates 
got  up  and  said  he  was  happy  to  see  this 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD. n  13 

day.     1  think  he  was  ready  to  cry,  he  was  so 

glad." 

"  And  is  this  the  '  Band '  you  spoke  of?  " 
"  This  is  the  Sunday  School  Working  Band; 

that  is  what  Mr.  Richmond  called  it." 
"  What  work  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 
"  I   don't  know !     Mr.  Richmond  said   he 

could  not  tell  just  yet ;   but  we  are  to  have 

meetings  and  all  sorts  of  things.     And  then 

Mr.  Richmond  talked." 
"What  about?" 

«  O  I  can't  tell.     You  know  how  he  talks." 
"  He    said   what   the   Band   were   to  do," 

remarked  Matilda. 

«  1  told  what  that  was." 

«  You  did  not  tell  what  he  said." 

"  Why,  yes  I  did ;  he  said  they  were  to  do  all 

the  work  for  Christ  that  they  could ;  and  they 

were  to  pray  a  great  deal,  and  pray  for  each 

other  a  great  deal ;  and  they  were  to  live  right." 
"  Uncompromising  Christian  lives,  he  said. 

Mamma,     what      does      '  uncompromising  ' 

mean  ? " 


14  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

"  Why,  you  know ! "  put  in  her  sister. 

«  Tell,  then,  Maria,"  said  the  mother. 

"  Matilda  must  know,  mamma,  for  Mr. 
Richmond  explained  it  enough." 

"  Then  certainly  you  must." 

"  I  can't  talk  like  Mr.  Richmond,  though," 
said  Maria.  "  Letty,  you'll  spoil  that  bonnet 
if  you  put  red  flowers  in." 

"  That's  as  you  think,"  said  Letty.  "  Blue 
would  be  very  dull." 

"  Mamma,  what  is  uncompromising  ?  "  pur- 
sued Matilda,  a  pair  of  large,  serious  brown 
eyes  fastening  on  her  mother's  face  to  await 
the  answer. 

"Did  not  Mr.  Richmond  tell  you?  " 

"  If  he  did,  I  did  not  understand,  mamma." 

"  Then  he  ought  to  use  words  you  can 
understand  ;  that  is  all  I  have  to  say.  I 
cannot  undertake  to  be  Mr.  Richmond's  dic- 
tionary. Uncompromising  means  different 
things  at  different  times.  It  isn't  a  word  for 
you,  Tilly,'  the  mother  added  with  a  smile  at 
the  child. 


"WHAT  SHE    COULD."  15 

"There  is  only  one  thing  Tilly  will  ever 
be  uncompromising  about,"  her  oldest  sister 
remarked. 

«  What  is  that?  "  the  little  one  asked  quick. 

"  Girls,  stop  talking  and  go  to  bed,"  said 
their  mother.  "  Letitia  and  Anne,  put  up  work ; 
I  am  tired.  Maria,  you  and  Tilly  go  at  once 
and  be  out  of  the  way." 

"I  can't  see  how  I  am  in  the  way,"  re- 
marked   Maria.     "  Letty   has    not   done   her 
bonnet  yet,  and  she  will  not  go  iill  she  has." 
.  "  Letty,  I  am  not  going  to  wait  for  that 
bonnet." 

"  No,  ma'am  —  there  is  no  need." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  leave  you  up,  either.  1 
know  how  that  works.  The  bonnet  can  be 
finished  to-morrow.  And  Anne,  roll  up  your 
ruffles.  Come,  girls !  " 

"  What  a  lovely  mantilla  that  is  going  to  be; 
isn't  it,  mamma  ?  "  said  Maria.  "  Won't  Anne 
look  nice  when  she  gets  it  on  ?  I  wish  you'd 
let  me  have  one  just  like  it,  mamma. ' 

"  I  do  not  care  about  your  having  one  just 


1 6  "  W HA  T  SHE  '  COULD." 

like  it,"  said  Anne.  "  What  would  be  the  use 
of  that  ?  " 

"  The  same  use,  I  suppose  "  — 

"  Maria,  go  to  bed ! "  said  her  mother 
"  And  Matilda.  Look  what  o'clock  it  is." 

"  I  can't  go,  mamma,  unless  somebody  will 
bring  me  some  shoes.  Mine  are  wet." 

"  Maria,  fetch  Tilly  a  pair  of  shoes.  And  go, 
children." 

The  children  went ;  but  Maria  grumbled. 

"  Why  couldn't  you  come  upstairs  in  your 
stocking  feet?  /should." 

"  It  isn't  nice,"  said  the  little  one. 

"  Nice !  you're  so  terribly  nice  you  can't  do 
anything  other  people  do.  There  is  no  use  in 
our  coming  to  bed  now; — Anne  and  Letty 
will  sit  up  till  eleven  o'clock,  J  shouldn't 
wonder;  and  we  might  just  as  well  as  not. 
Mamma  can't  get  them  to  bed.  Letty  and 
Anne  ought  to  have  been  at  the  meeting  to- 
night. I  wonder  if  they  would  have  risen. 
Why  did  not  you  rise,  Matilda  ?  " 

«  I  had  not  thought  about  it." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  If 

"  Can't  you  do  anything  without  thinking 
about  it  first?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  it  yet." 

"  Understand !  why,  nothing  is  easier  than 
to  understand.  Of  course,  we  are  all  to  be 
as  good  as  we  can  be  —  that's  all." 

"  You  don't  think  that  is  much,"  said  the 
little  one,  as  she  began  slowly  to  undress  her- 
self. The  work  of  undressing  and  dressing 
was  always  slow  with  Tilly.  Every  article  of 
clothing  taken  off  was  to  be  delicately  folded 
and  nicely  laid  away  at  night ;  and  taken  out 
and  put  on  with  equal  care  and  punctilious- 
ness in  the  morning.  Maria's  stockings  went 
one  way  and  her  shoes  another;  while  Tilly's 
were  put  exactly  ready  for  use  under  her 
chair.  And  Maria's  clothes  presently  lay  in 
a  heap  on  the  floor.  But  not  till  some  time 
after  Matilda's  neat  arrangements  had  been 
made  and  she  herself  was  safe  in  bed.  M^"ia 
had  dallied  while  the  other  was  undressing. 

"I  think  you  are  very  curious,  Matilda!" 
she  exclaimed  as  she  followed  her  sister  into 
2 


1 8  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

bed.  "  I  shouldn't  think  it  required  much 
thinking-,  to  know  that  one  ought  to  be  good." 

"  You  haven't  put  out  the  candle,  Maria." 

Maria  bounced  from  her  bed,  and  bounced 
in  again. 

"  O  Maria!"  said  Matilda  in  a  moment  or 
two,  plaintively,  "  you've  blown  it  out !  and  the 
room  is  all  filled  with  smoke." 

"  It  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  said 
Maria. 

"  It  is  very  disagreeable." 

"  It  will  be  gone  in  a  minute." 

"  No,  it  wont,  for  I  can  see  the  red  spark  on 
the  end  of  the  candle  now." 

"  You  are  so  particular,  Tilly ! "  said  her 
sister.  "  If  you  ever  take  a  notion  to  be  good, 
you'll  have  to  leave  off  some  of  your  ways, 
I  can  tell  you.  You  needn't  mind  a  little 
smell  of  candle-smoke.  Go  to  sleep,  and  for- 
get  it." 

"  Don't  good  people  mind  disagreeable 
things?"  said  Matilda. 

"  No,  of  course  they  don't.     How  could  they 


"WHAT  SHE    COULD."  19 

get  along,  you  know.  Don't  you  remember 
what  Mr.  Richmond  said  ?  " 

"  I  don't  remember  that  he  said  that.  But 
then,  Maria,  would  you  mind  getting  up  to 
snuff  out  that  candle  ?  It's  dreadful !  " 

"  Nonsense !  I  sha'n't  do  it.  I've  just  got 
warm." 

Another  minute  or  two  gave  tokens  that 
Maria  was  past  minding  discomfort  of  any 
sort.  She  was  fast  asleep.  Tilly  waited, 
panted,  looked  at  the  glimmering  red  end  of 
the  candle  snuff;  finally  got  out  o.f  bed  and 
crept  to  the  dressing-table  where  it  stood,  and 
with  some  trouble  managed  to  put  a  stop  to 
smoke  for  that  night. 


CHAPTER    II. 

rilHE  house  in  which  these  things  happened 
-•-  was  a  brown  house,  standing  on  the 
great  high  road  of  travel  which  ran  through 
the  country,  and  just  where  a  considerable 
village  had  clustered  round  it.  From  the 
upper  windows  you  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
fine  range  of  blue  mountains,  lying  miles 
away,  and  with  indeed  a  broad  river  flowing 
between ;  but  the  river  was  too  far  off  to  be 
seen,  and  hidden  behind  intervening  ground. 
From  the  lower  windows  you  looked  out  into 
the  village  street ;  clean  and  wide,  with  com- 
fortable houses  standing  along  the  way,  not 
crowded  together;  and  with  gardens  between 
and  behind  them,  and  many  trees  shielding 
and  overhanging.  The  trees  were  bare  now ; 
the  gardens  a  spread  of  snow;  the  street  a 


SHE   COULD."  21 


white  way  for  sleigh  runners;  nevertheless 
the  aspect  of  the  whole  was  hopeful,  comfort- 
able, thriving,  even  a  little  ambitious.  Within 
this  particular  house,  if  you  went  in,  you 
•would  see  comfort,  but  little  pretension ;  a 
neat  look  of  things,  but  such  things  as  had 
been  mended  and  saved  and  would  not  be 
rashly  replaced.  It  was  very  respectable, 
therefore,  and  had  no  look  of  poverty.  So 
of  the  family  gathered  around  the  breakfast 
table  on  the  morning  after  the  Sunday  school 
meeting.  It  was  a  fair  group,  healthy  and 
bright;  the  four  girls  and  their  mother.  They 
were  nicely  dressed  ;  and  good  appetites  spoke 
of  good  spirits ;  and  the  provision  on  the 
table  was  abundant  though  plain. 

Maria  asked  if  Letty  had  finished  her  bon- 
net last  night  ?  Letty  said  she  had. 

"  And  did  you  put  those  red  flowers  in  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  That  will  be  gay." 

"  Not  too  gay.  Just  enough.  The  bonnet 
would  be  nothing  if  it  had  not  flowers." 


1ULD. 


22  "WHAT  SHE 


Maria's    spoon    paused    half    way   to 
mouth.     "  I  wonder,"  she  said   gravely,  "  if 
Mr.  Richmond  likes  red  flowers  ?  " 

"  He  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  bonnet," 
said  Letitia.  "  And  no  more  have  you.  You 
need  not  raise  the  question.  I  shall  wear 
what  becomes  me." 

"  What  is  the  difference  whether  one  wears 
red  or  blue,  Maria  ?  "  said  her  mother.  "  Do 
you  think  one  colour  is  more  religious  than 
another  ?  —  or  more  wicked  ?  What  do  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  ma'am,"  Maria  answered,  a  little 
abashed.  "  I  was  only  thinking." 

"  I  think  Mr.  Richmond  likes  flowers  every- 
where," said  Matilda ;  "  and  all  colours." 

"  People  that  are  very  religious  do  not  wear 
flowers  in  their  bonnets  though,  do  they?'* 
said  Maria. 

"  Mr.  Richmond  did  not  say  any  such 
thing ! "  said  Matilda  indignantly. 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  What  was  all  this 
last  night's  talk  about  ?  "  said  Anne.  «  I  did 


SHE    COULD."  23 

not  'tfncferstand  half  of  it.  Was  it  against 
red  flowers,  or  red  anything?" 

"  I  did  not  understand  any  of  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Englefield. 

"  Why  mamma,  I  told  you  all,  as  plain  as 
could  be,"  said  Maria.  "  I  told  you  he 
made  a  Band  "  — 

"He  didn't,"  interrupted  Matilda;  "the 
Band  made  themselves." 

But  at  this,  the  shout  that  went  round  the 
breakfast  table  threatened  to  endanger  the 
dishes. 

"  It's  no  use  trying  to  talk,"  said  Maria 
sullenly,  "  if  you  laugh  so.  I  told  you  there 
was  a  Band  —  ever  so  many  of  us  rose 
up  and  agreed  that  we  would  belong  to 
it." 

"  Matilda,  are  you  in  it  too  ?  "  the  mother 
asked. 

"  No,  mamma." 

"  Why  not  ?     How  comes  that  ?  " 

"  She  wasn't  ready,"  her  sister  said. 

"Why  not,  Tilly?" 


24  "WHAT  SHE 

"  Mamma,  I  want  to  understand,"  saia ' .  6 
child. 

"  Quite  right ;  so  do  I." 

"  Wouldn't  you  do  what  Mr.  Richmond 
says,  whether  you  understand  or  not  ?  "  in- 
quired Maria  severely. 

"  I  would  rather  know  what  it  is,  first,"  said 
Matilda  in  her  way,  which  was  a  compound 
of  cool  and  demure,  but  quite  natural. 

"And  when  is  the  next  meeting?"  said 
Letitia.  «  I  guess  I'll  go." 

"  It  won't  be  for  a  week,"  said  Matilda. 

"  And  will  you  join  the  Band,  Letty  ? " 
Maria  asked  somewhat  eagerly. 

"How,  join  it?" 

"  Why,  rise  up,  when  you  are  asked." 

"  What  does  '  rising  up '  mean,  Maria  ? 
What  do  you  rise  for?" 

"  Why,  it  means  just  that  you  promise  to 
be  good,  you  know." 

"  But  I  have  heard  you  promise  that  a 
number  of  times,  it  seems  to  me;  without 
1  rising  up,'  as  you  call  it  Will  the  promise 


SHE   COULD."  25 

l^ot  'better,  if  you  make  it  on  your  feet  instead 
of  sitting?" 

"  Now  mamma,"  said  Maria,  flushing,  "isn't 
that  just  wicked  in  Letitia?  " 

"  My  dear,  I  do  not  understand  one  word 
at  present  of  what  this  is  all  about,"  her 
mother  answered. 

Perhaps  Matilda  was  in  the  same  mood, 
for  she  was  a  thoughtful  little  child  all  the 
way  to  school  that  morning.  And  at  the 
close  of  the  school  day,  when  the  children 
were  going  home,  she  went  slowly  and  de- 
murely along  the  icy  street,  while  her  sister 
and  companions  made  a  merry  time.  There 
had  been  a  little  thaw  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  and  now  it  had  turned  cold  again,  and 
the  sidewalks  were  a  glare  of  ice.  Matilda 
was  afraid,  and  went  cautiously ;  Maria  and 
the  others  took  the  opportunity  for  a  grand 
slide,  and  ran  and  slipped  and  slid  and  sailed 
away  homewards,  like  mad  things.  One 
after  another  they  passed  her  and  rushed 
along,  till  Matilda  was  left  the  last,  slowly 


26  "WHAT  SHE 


shuffling  her  little  feet  over  the  track 
the  feet  of  the  others  had  made  doubly  slip- 
pery. When  quick  steps  came  up  behind  her, 
and  a  pleasant  voice  spoke. 

"  Are  you  afraid  you  are  going  to  tumble 
down?" 

Matilda  started,  but  lifted  her  eyes  very 
contentedly  then  to  the  face  of  the  speaker. 
They  had  a  good  way  to  go,  for  he  was  a  taU 
young  man.  But  he  was  looking  down 
towards  her  with  a  bright  face,  and  two  good, 
clear  blue  eyes,  and  a  smile;  and  his  hand 
presently  clasped  hers.  Matilda  had  no  objec 
tion. 

"  Where  is  everybody  else  ?  how  come 
you  to  be  all  alone  ?  " 

"  They  have  gone  ahead,  sliding  on  the 
ice." 

"  And  you  do  not  practise  sliding  ?  " 

"  I  am  always  afraid  I  shall  fall  down." 

"  The  best  way  is  not  to  be  afraid ;  and  thei* 
you  don't  fall  down.  See  —  no!  hold  fast; 
I  shall  not  let  you  slip.  —  " 


"W1-, 


v£t%.T  SHE   COULD.  27 


the  gentleman  and  Matilda  slid  along 
the  street  for  half  a  block. 

"  How  do  you  like  that  ?  " 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Richmond  —  with  you 
holding  me." 

"  It  doesn't  give  you  courage,  eh  ?  Well, 
we  will  walk  on  soberly  together.  I  didn't 
see  you  stand  when  Maria  did  last  night?" 

"  Mr.  Richmond,  I  did  not  know  just  what 
it  all  meant ;  and  so  I  sat  still." 

('  You  did  not  know  just  what  it  all 
meant?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  you  were  perfectly  right  to  sit  still. 
But  that  means  that  I  did  not  speak  so  that 
you  could  understand  me  ?  Was  it  so  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  understand  —  "  said  Matilda. 

"  It  comes  to  that,  I  suppose.  It  is  my 
fault.  Well,  I  shall  remember  and  be  very 
careful  what  I  say  the  next  time.  I  will 
speak  so  that  you  will  understand.  But  in 
that  case  I  want  you  to  do  one  thing  for  me, 
Tilly,  — will  you?" 


28  "WHAT  SHE   COV 


"  If  I  can,  Mr.  Richmond." 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  ask  something  you 
could  not  do  ?  " 

Matilda  looked  up  to  the  blue  eyes  again ; 
they  were  fastened  upon  her  gravely,  and  she 
hesitated. 

"  Mr.  Richmond  —  I  don't  know.  You 
might." 

"  I  hope  not,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  I  will  try 
not.  You  won't  promise  me  ?  " 

"  If  I  can  —  I  will,  Mr.  Richmond." 

"  I  am  only  going  to  ask  you  —  When  you 
hear  what  I  have  to  say  next  time,  if  you 
understand  it,  will  you  do  what  you  think 
you  ought  to  do  ?  " 

There  fell  a  silence  upon  that.  Mr.  Rich- 
mond's firm  step  on  the  icy  ground  and 
Matilda's  light  footfall  passed  by  house  after 
house,  and  still  the  little  one's  tongue  seemed 
to  be  tied.  They  turned  the  corner,  and  went 
their  way  along  Matilda's  own  street,  where 
the  light  of  afternoon  was  now  fading,  and 
the  western  sky  was  throwing  a  reflection  of 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  29 

its  own.  Past  the  butcher's  shop,  and  the  post 
office,  and  house  after  house;  and  still  Matilda 
was  silent,  and  her  conductor  did  not  speak. 
Until  they  stopped  before  the  little  gate  lead- 
ing to  the  house,  which  was  placed  somewhat 
back  from  the  road.  At  the  gate  Mr.  Rich- 
mond stood  still. 

"What  about  my  question,  Matilda?"  he 
said,  without  loosing  his  hold  of  the  little 
hand  which  had  rested  so  willingly  in  his  all 
the  way. 

"  Aren't  you  coming  in,  Mr.  Richmond  ?  " 

"  Not  to-night.  What  about  my  question  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Richmond,"  said  the  child  slowly,  — 
"  I  do  not  always  do  the  things  I  ought  to  do." 

"  No,  I  know  you  do  not.  But  will  you  do 
that  thing,  which  you  will  think  you  ought  to 
do,  when  you  have  heard  me  and  understood 
what  I  say,  the  next  time  the  Band  has  a  meet- 
ing?" 

Matilda  stood  silent,  her  hand  still  in  Mr. 
Richmond's. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  " 


30  "WHAT  SHE    COULD." 

"  Perhaps  I  shall  not  want  to  do  it,"  she 
said  looking  up  frankly. 

"  I  ask  you  to  do  it,  all  the  same." 

Matilda  did  not  move,  and  now  her  face 
shewed  great  perplexity. 

"Well?"  said  Mr.  Richmond,  smiling  at 
last. 

"  Perhaps  I  cannot  do  it,  Mr.  Richmond  ?  " 

"  Then,  if  you  think  you  cannot  do  it,  will 
you  come  and  tell  me  ?  " 

Matilda  hesitated  and  pondered  and  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Do  you  wish  it  very  much,  Mr.  Rich- 
mond ?  "  she  said,  looking  up  appealingly  into 
his  face. 

"  I  do  wish  it  very  much." 

"  Then  I  will!  "  said  Matilda,  with  a  sigh. 

He  nodded,  shook  her  hand,  and  turned 
'away  with  quick  steps.  Matilda  went  in  and 
climbed  the  stairs  to  the  room  she  and  Maria 
shared  together. 

"  What  were  you  talking  to  Mr.  Richmond 
so  long  about  ?  "  said  Maria. 


"WHAT  SHE    COULD:1  31 

"  I  wasn't  talking  to  Mr.  Richmond.  He 
was  talking  to  me." 

"  What's  the  difference  ?  But  I  wish  he 
would  talk  to  Ailie  Swan  ;  she  wants  it,  I 
know.  That  girl  is  too  much  ! " 

«  What  has  she  done  ?  " 

"  O,  you  don't  know ;  she  isn't  in  your  set. 
J  know.  She's  just  disagreeable.  I  think 
people  ought  to  be  civil,  if  they  are  ever  so 
good." 

"  I  thought  good  people  were  civil  always." 

"  Shows  you  don't  know  much." 

"  Isn't  Ailie  Swan  civil  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  call  it  civility.  What  do  you 
think,  Tilly  ?  I  asked  her  if  my  South  Amer- 
ica wasn't  good  ?  and  she  said  she  thought  it 
was  not.  Isn't  that  civility  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  ask  her  for  ?  " 

"  Because !  I  knew  my  South  America 
was  good." 

«  Let  me  see  it." 

"  Nonsense !  You  do  not  know  the  first 
thing  about  it."  But  she  gave  her  little  sister 


32  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

the  sheet  on  which  the  map  was  drawn. 
Matilda  took  it  to  a  table  under  the  window, 
where  the  dying  light  from  the  western  sky 
fell  brightest;  and  putting  both  elbows  on  the 
table  and  her  head  in  her  hands,  studied  the 
map. 

"  Where  is  the  Atlas  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  want  of  the  Atlas?  " 

"  I  want  to  see  if  it  is  like/" 

"  It  is  like,  of  course,  child." 

"  1  can't  tell  without  seeing,"  Matilda  per- 
sisted.  And  Maria  grumblingly  brought  the 
Atlas,  open  at  the  map  in  question.  Matilda 
took  it  and  studied  anew. 

"  It  is  getting  dark,"  said  she  at  length. 
"  But  your  South  America  is  crooked,  Maria." 

"  It  isn't !  "  said  Maria  vehemently.  "  How 
should  it  be  crooked  ?  when  we  angle  it  on, 
just  according  to  the  rules." 

"  Angle  it  on  ?  "  repeated  Matilda,  looking 
at  her  sister. 

"  Yes.  O,  you  don't  understand,  child  ;  how 
should  you  ?  I  told  you  you  didn't  know  any- 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  33 

thing  about  it.  Of  course,  we  have  rules  and 
things  to  go  by ;  and  my  South  America  was 
put  on  just  right." 

"  It  is  not  straight,  though,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Why,  no,  it  isn't  straight ;  it  is  not  meant 
to  be  straight ;  it  is  all  crookly  crawly,  going 
in  and  out,  all  round." 

"But  it  don't  stand  straight,"  said  Ma- 
tilda ;  "  and  it  looks  thin,  too,  Maria  ;  it  don't 
puff  out  as  much  as  the  real  South  America 
does." 

"  Puff  out! "  Maria  repeated.  "  It's  as  good 
as  Ailie's,  anyhow ;  and  a  great  deal  better 
than  Frances  Earth's.  Frances  got  a  great 
blot  on  hers ;  she's  so  careless.  George  Van 
Dyke  is  making  a  nice  one ;  and  Ben  Barth 
is  doing  a  splendid  map  ;  but  then  Ben  does 
everything  "  — 

Here  there  was  a  great  call  to  tea  from  be- 
low, and  the  girls  went  down.  Downstairs 
there  was  excitement.  A  letter  had  come  from 
Mrs.  Candy,  Mrs.  Englefield's  sister,  saying 
that  she  herself  with  her  daughter  Clarissa 


34  "WHAT  SHE    COULD." 

would  be  with  them  the  beginning  of  the 
week.  . 

"  To  stay,  mamma  ?  O  mamma,  is  Aunt 
Candy  coming  to  stay  ?  Do  tell  me.  Is  she 
coming  to  stay  ?  "  Maria  exclaimed  and  ques- 
tioned. 

"  She  will  stay  a  night  with  us,  Maria. 
Don't  be  so  eager." 

"  Only  a  night,  mamma?  Won't  she  be 
here  longer  ?  " 

"  She  is  coming  to  stay  till  summer,  Maria," 
said  her  eldest  sister.  "  Do  be  reasonable." 

"  I  think  it  is  reasonable  to  want  to  know," 
said  Maria.  "  You  knew ;  so  you  didn't  care 
about  it." 

/  "  I  care  a  great  deal ;  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 
said  Anne. 

"  I  mean  you  didn't  care  about  knowing. 
O  mamma,  can't  I  have  my  dress  finished  be- 
fore they  come  ?  " 

"  What  dress,  Maria  ? "  her  sister  went 
on;  for  Mrs.  Englefield  was  busy  with  the 
letter. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  35 

"  My  new  merino.  It  is  almost  done ;  it 
only  wants  finishing." 

"  There's  all  the  braid  to  put  on,  isn't 
there?" 

"  Well,  that  isn't  much.  Mamma,  cannot  I 
have  my  red  merino  finished  before  they  come  ? 
I  have  got  nothing  to  wear." 

"  What  can  you  mean,  Maria  ?  You  have 
everything  you  want.  That  is  only  for  your 
best  dress." 

"  But,  mamma,  it  is  just  when  I  should  want 
it,  when  they  come ;  you'll  be  having  every- 
body to  tea.  Won't  you  have  it  done  for  me  ? 
please,  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  can  do  it  for  yourself,  Maria. 
I  have  no  objection  to  your  finishing  it." 

"  I  cannot  put  on  that  braid  —  in  that 
quirlicue  pattern,  mamma ;  I  never  did 
such  work  as  that;  and  I  haven't  time,  be- 
sides." 

"  Nor  inclination,"  said  Letitia  laughing. 
"  Come,  Maria,  it  is  time  you  learned  to  do 
something  for  yourself.  Matilda,  now,  might 


36  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

plead  inexperience,  and  have  some  reason ; 
but  you  are  quite  old  enough." 

The  dispute  would  have  gone  on,  but  Mrs. 
Englefield  desired  silence,  and  the  family  drew 
round  the  tea-table.  Other  plans  for  the  fol- 
lowing weeks  filled  every  tongue.  Mrs. 
Candy  was  well  off;  a  widow  with  one  child, 
her  daughter  Clarissa  ;  she  had  been  in  Europe 
for  several  years ;  coming  back  now  to 
her  own  country,  she  was  bending  her  steps 
first  of  all  to  her  sister's  house  and  family. 

"  We  shall  have  the  new  fashions,  straight 
from  Paris,"  Anne  remarked. 

"  Has  Aunt  Candy  been  in  Paris  ?  I  thought 
she  was  in  Scotland,  mamma  ?  " 

"  People  may  go  to  Paris,  if  they  have  been 
in  Scotland,  Maria.  It  is  not  so  far  as  around 
the  world." 

"  But  has  she  been  in  Paris  ?  " 

«  Lately." 

"  Mamma,  what  is  Aunt  Candy  going  to  do 
with  herself  when  summer  comes  ?  She  says, 
« till  summer.' " 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  37 

"  When  she  tells  us,  I  shall  know,  Letty 
At  present  I  am  as  ignorant  as  you." 

"  Do  you  think  she  will  buy  a  house  here, 
and  make  her  home  here  ?  " 

"  That  depends  on  how  well  she  likes 
Shadywalk,  I  imagine." 

"  I  hope  she  will ! " 

"  I  would  like  to  see,  first,  what  she  is," 
said  Maria.  "  We  shall  have  time  enough  for 
that,  if  they  stay  with  us  till  summer.  How 
old,  mamma,  is  Clarissa  Candy  ?  " 

"  Over  your  age,  Maria,  by  a  year  or  so." 

"  Will  she  go  to  school  with  us,  do  you 
suppose,  mamma?  " 

"  I  really  cannot  tell,  Maria.  I  think  it 
very  likely." 

"  Is  Aunt  Candy  very  rich  ?  " 

"  You  talk  like  a  foolish  girl.  Why  do  you 
want  to  know  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  whether  Clarissa  would  be 
dressed  a  great  deal  better  than  we  are." 

"  And  what  if  she  is  ?  " 

«  Nothing.     I  was  thinking.     That's  all." 


38  "  WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  I  don't  think  it  signifies,"  said  Matilda. 

"  O,  Matilda  has  found  her  tongue.  1 
was  waiting  to  see  when  she  would  speak," 
cried  Anne.  «  What  don't  signify,  little  one  ?  " 

"  It  don't  signify,  I  think,  whether  any  one 
is  dressed  better  than  another ;  anybody ; 
Clarissa  or  anybody  else." 

"  Well,  you  are  mistaken  then,"  said 
Anne;  "for  it  does  signify.  All  the  world 
knows  it ;  and  what  is  more,  all  the  world 
feels  it." 

«'•  I  don't  think  I  do,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Your  time  has  not  come." 

"  Tour  time  had  come,  though,  before  you 
were  as  old  as  she,"  said  her  mother ;  "  and 
Maria's,  and  Letty's." 

"  I  know,  Matilda  is  a  wonderful  child," 
said  Anne,  "  but  her  time  will  come  too, 
mamma  ;  and  she  will  find  it  makes  a  differ- 
ence whether  she  is  dressed  one  way  or 
another." 

"  I  think  that  now,"  observed  Matilda. 

"  Anybody  that  has  to  fasten  Tilly's  dresses 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  39 

knows  that,"  laughed  Maria.  "  I  don't  make 
half  so  much  fuss." 

"I  wish  you  did,"  said  her  mother.  "  You 
are  not  near  careful  enough,  in  putting  on 
your  things.  Now  putting  on  is  half  the 
battle." 

The  argument  lasted  till  Tilly  and  Maria 
went  back  to  the  consideration  of  South 
America;  which  was  brought  downstairs  to 
the  lamp. 

"  You  haven't  got  the  Amazon  right,"  said 
Matilda ;  "  and  Rio  Janeiro  is  too  far  down  ; 
and  it's  all  crooked  —  don't  you  see  ?  " 

"No!"  said  Maria;  "and  if  it  is,  Ailie 
Swan  needn't  have  said  hers  was  better." 

«  You  asked  her." 

"Well,  what  if  I  did?" 

"  What  could  she  say  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care ;  it  was  awfully  rude ;  and 
people  ought  to  be  polite,  if  they're  ever  so 
good." 

"What  is  all  that?"  said  Mrs.  Englefield. 
«  That  is  not  Tilly's  map  ?  " 


40  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  O,  no,  mamma ;  she  can't  draw  maps ;  she 
is  only  setting  up  for  a  judge." 

"  She  would  do  it  as  well  as  that,  if  she 
would  try,"  said  her  mother.  "  I  wish  you 
would  love  your  studies,  Matilda.  You  could 
do  so  well  if  you  pleased." 

"  Clarissa  Candy  will  make  you  both 
ashamed,"  said  Anne.  "  She  has  learned 
everything,  and  is  terribly  smart ;  '  going 
on  to  learn  everything  else,'  her  mother 


"  Mamma,"  said  Maria,  "  I  have  only  my 
green  silk  and  my  blue  delaine  for  nice  dresses ; 
and  the  silk  is  old-fashioned,  you  know,  and 
the  delaine  is  too  short ;  and  I  want  my  merino 
finished." 

«  Finish  it,  then." 

Maria  pouted. 

"  I  cannot  afford  every  indulgence  to  you, 
as  your  aunt  can  to  Clarissa ;  you  must  make 
it  up  by  your  own  industry." 

"  But  can  I,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Can  you  what  ?  " 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  41 

"  If  I  am  very  smart,  can  you  give  me 
things,  if  I  make  them  up,  that  I  can  be  as 
well  dressed  as  Clarissa  Candy  ?  " 

"  Let  us  see  the  merino  made  first,"  said 
her  mother. 


CHAPTER    III. 


npHERE  was  great  interest  now  at  Shady- 
walk,  at  least  in  one  house,  to  know 
when  the  Liverpool  steamer,  "  City  of  Pride," 
would  be  in.  Conjectures  proving  unsatis- 
factory and  uncertain,  the  whole  family  took 
to  studying  the  marine  lists  in  the  daily  pa- 
pers;  and  when  everybody  else  had  looked 
them  over,  the  last  one  of  the  family  did  it 
again  with  extra  care ;  lest  by  some  singular 
coincidence  the  letters  forming  the  "  City  of 
Pride  "  might  have  escaped  the  eyes  so  keen 
set  to  find  them.  The  paper  grew  better 
than  a  novel.  It  furnished  a  great  deal  of 
matter  for  conversation,  besides;  for  all  the 
steamers  which  had  got  in  were  talked  over, 
with  their  dates  of  sailing,  and  number  of 
days  on  the  passage;  with  each  of  which 


"  WHA  T  SHE   COULD."  43 

the  times,  certain  and  probable,  of  the  "  City 
of  Pride"  were  compared.  Then  there  was 
the  question,  whether  Aunt  Candy  might 
have  changed  her  mind  at  the  last  minute, 
and  waited  for  another  steamer ;  and  the 
reports  of  the  weather  lately  experienced  at 
sea  were  anxiously  read,  and  put  alongside 
of  the  weather  lately  experienced  at  Shady- 
walk. 

Preparations  in  the  house  went  on  dili- 
gently; whatever  might  help  it  to  make  a 
better  impression,  or  afford  greater  comfort 
to  the  expected  guests,  was  carefully  done. 
Mrs.  Englefield  even  talked  of  getting  a  new 
stair-carpet;  but  contented  herself  with  hav- 
ing the  old  one  taken  up  and  put  down 
again,  the  stairs  washed,  and  the  stair-rods 
brightened ;  the  spare  room,  the  large  corner 
chamber  looking  to  the  north  and  west,  was 
scrupulously  swept  and  dusted ;  furniture 
rubbed ;  little  white  knitted  mats  laid  on  the 
dressing-table;  the  chintz  curtains  taken 
down  and  put  up  again;  a  new  nice  cham- 


44  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

her  set  of  white  china  was  bought,  for  the 
pitcher  of  the  old  set  had  an  ugly  nick  in  it 
and  looked  shabby;  the  towel  rack  was  filled 
with  white  napery ;  the  handsomest  Mar- 
seilles quilt  was  spread  on  the  bed ;  the  stove 
was  blackened  and  polished.  It  looked  "  very 
respectable,"  Anne  said,  when  all  was  done. 

What  private  preparations  went  on  be- 
sides, on  the  part  of  the  girts,  it  would  be 
hard  to  say.  Maria  worked  hard  at  her 
braiding,  —  that  was  open  to  anybody's  ob- 
servation ;  but  there  were  less  obvious  flut- 
ings  and  ironings  down  in  the  kitchen,  and 
adjusting  of  ribbons  and  flowers  in  secret 
consultations  upstairs.  And  one  piece  of 
care  was  made  public  by  Maria,  who  an- 
nounced that  Letty  had  trimmed  her  old 
bonnet  three  times  over  before  she  would 
be  suited. 

"Very  well,"  said  Letty  contentedly.  "I 
should  like  to  know  who  would  wear  an  old 
thing  when  he  could  have  a  new ;  and  mine 
is  like  new  now." 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  45 

"  Things  can't  be  new  always,"  said  Ma- 
tilda. 

"What  then?"  her  sisters  asked  laugh- 
ing. 

"  Then  it  must  be  respectable  for  them  to 
be  old,  sometimes." 

"  Respectable  !  Not  very  pleasant,  when 
they  are  to  be  set  alongside  of  things  as 
new  and  nice  as  they  can  be.  I  like  to  be 
as  good  as  anybody,  for  my  part." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Matilda,  "  do  you  know 
there  is  a  great  hole  in  the  door  mat  ?  " 

"  It  is  worn  out  a  great  deal  too  soon," 
said  Mrs.  Englefield.  « I  shall  tell  Mr.  Hard 
that  his  goods  do  not  last;  to  be  sure,  you 
children  do  kick  it  to  pieces  with  the  snow." 

"  But,  mamma,  I  should  think  you  might 
get  another,  and  let  that  one  go  to  the 
kitchen." 

"  And  then,  wouldn't  you  like  me  to  buy 
a  new  hall  cloth  ?  there  is  very  nearly  a  hole 
in  that." 

"  O,  yes,  mamma ! " 


46  "WHAT  SHE  COULD.* 

"  I  cannot  do  it,  children.  I  am  not  as 
rich  as  your  Aunt  Candy.  You  must  be 
contented  to  let  things  be  as  they  are." 

The  girls  seemed  to  take  it  as  a  grave  fact, 
to  judge  by  their  faces. 

"  And  I  think  all  this  is  very  foolish  talking 
and  feeling.  People  are  not  any  better  for 
being  rich." 

*'  But  they  are  a  great  deal  happier,"  said 
Letitia. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  I  never  was 
tried.  I  think  you  had  better  put  the  thought 
out  of  your  heads.  I  should  be  sorry  if  you 
were  not  as  happy  as  your  cousin,  and  with 
as  much  reason." 

"  Mamma's  being  sorry  doesn't  help  the 
matter,"  said  Letitia  softly.  "  I  know  I 
should  be  happier  if  I  had  what  I  want.  It 
is  just  nonsense  to  say  I  should  not.  And 
mamma  would,  herself." 

That  evening,  the  end  of  the  week  it  was, 
the  newspaper  rewarded  the  first  eyes  that 
looked  at  its  columns,  with  the  intelligence 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  47 

that  the  "  City  of  Pride "  had  been  tele- 
graphed. She  would  be  in  that  night. 
And  the  list  of  passengers  duly  shewed  the 
names  of  Mrs.  Candy  and  daughter.  The 
family  could  hardly  wait  over  Sunday  now. 
Monday  morning's  train,  they  settled  it, 
would  bring  the  travellers.  Sunday  was 
spent  in  a  flutter.  But  however,  that  Mon- 
day, as  well  as  that  Sunday,  was  a  lost  day. 
The  washing  was  put  off,  and  a  special  din- 
ner cooked,  in  vain.  The  children  staid  at 
home  and  did  not  go  to  school,  and  did  noth- 
ing. Nobody  did  any  thing,  to  speak  of.  To 
be  sure,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  running  up 
and  down  stairs ;  setting  and  clearing  tables ; 
going  to  and  from  the  post  office ;  but  when 
night  came,  the  house  and  everything  in  it 
was  just  where  the  morning  had  found  them ; 
only,  all  the  humanity  in  it  was  tired  with 
looking  out  of  windows. 

"  That's  the  worst  of  expecting  people '  '* 
Mrs.  Englefield  observed,  as  she  wearily  put 
herself  in  an  arm  chair,  and  Letitia  drew  the 


48  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

window  curtains.  "  You  never  know  what 
to  do,  and  the  thing  you  do  is  sure  to  be  the 
wrong  thing.  Here  Judith  might  as  well 
have  done  her  washing  as  not ;  and  now  it's 
to  do  to-morrow,  when  we  don't  want  it  in  the 
way,  and  it  will  be  in  the  way." 

"  Don't  you  think  they  will  come  to-night, 
mamma  ?  "  said  Matilda. 

"  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  I  know  no 
more  than  you  do.  How  can  I  tell  ?  Only 
don't  ask  rne  any  more  questions." 

"  Would  you  have  tea  yet,  mamma  ?  "  said 
Letitia. 

"  There's  a  question,  now !  I  tell  you,  don't 
ask  me.  Just  when  you  like." 

"  There's  no  train  due  for  a  good  while, 
mamma ;  they  couldn't  come  for  two  or  three 
hours.  I  think  we  had  better  have  tea." 

So  she  went  off  to  prepare  it,  just  as  Ma- 
tilda, who  had  put  her  face  outside  of  the 
window  curtain,  proclaimed  that  somebody 
was  coming  to  the  door. 

"  Only  one  person  though,  mamma.    Mam- 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  49 

ma!  it's  Miss  Redwood  —  Mr.  Richmond's 
Miss  Redwood." 

"  It  wanted  but  that ! "  Mrs.  Englefield  ex- 
claimed with  a  sort  of  resigned  despair. 
"  Let  her  in,  Matilda.  I  locked  the  door." 

The  person  who  followed  Matilda  to  the 
sitting  room  was  a  slim  woman,  in  black  cos- 
tume, neither  new  nor  fashionable.  Indeed 
it  had  no  such  pretensions;  for  the  fashion 
at  that  time  was  for  small  bonnets,  but  Miss 
Redwood's  shadowed  her  face  with  a  remi- 
niscence of  the  coal-scuttle  shapes,  once  worn 
many  years  before.  The  face  under  the  bon- 
net was  thin  and  sharp-featured ;  yet  a  cer- 
tain delicate  softness  of  skin  saved  it  from 
being  harsh;  there  was  even  a  little  peachy 
bloom  on  the  cheeks.  The  eyes  were  soft 
and  keen  at  once ;  at  least  there  was  no  want 
of  benevolence  in  them,  while  their  glance 
was  swift  and  shrewd  enough,  and  full  of 
business  activity. 

"  Miss  Redwood,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  am 
glad  to  see  you.  Do  sit  down,"  was  Mrs. 
4 


50  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

Englefield's    salutation,   made    without    ris- 
ing. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mis'  Englefield  ?  Why 
—  seems  as  if  you  was  expectin'  folks 
here?" 

"  Just  what  we  are  doing  ;  and  it  is  some 
of  the  hardest  work  one  can  do." 

"  Depends  on  who  you  expect,  seems  to  me. 
And  I  guess  'tain't  harder  work  than  what 
I've  been  doing  to-day.  I've  been  makin' 
soap.  Got  it  done,  too.  And  'tain't  to  do 
agin  till  this  time  next  year  comes  round." 

"  Can  you  make  enough  at  once  for  the 
whole  year  ?  I  cannot." 

"  'Spects  you  use  a  passel,  don't  ye  ?  " 

"  Of  course  —  in  so  large  a  family.  But 
you're  a  great  hand  for  soap,  Miss  Redwood, 
if  folks  say  true." 

"  Cellar  ain't  never  out  of  it,"  said  Miss 
Redwood  shaking  her  head.  "  It's  strong, 
mine  is ;  that's  where  it  is.  You  see  I've  my 
own  leach  sot  up,  and  there's  lots  o'  ashes ; 
the  minister,  he  likes  to  burn  wood,  and  1 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  51 

like  it,  for  it  gives  me  my  ley ;  and  I  don't 
have  no  trouble  with  it ;  the  minister,  he  saws 
it  and  splits  it  and  chops  it,  and  then  when  all's 
done  he  brings  it  in,  and  he  puts  it  on.  All  I 
have  to  do  is  to  get  my  ashes.  I  did  think, 
when  I  first  come,  and  the  minister  he  told 
me  he  calculated  to  burn  wood  in  his  room,  I 
did  think  I  should  give  up.  '  Why  sir,'  says 
I, '  it'll  take  a  load  o'  wood  a  day,  to  fill  that 
ere  chimney;  and  I  hate  to  see  a  chimney 
standin'  empty  with  two  or  three  sticks  a 
makin'  believe  have  a  fire  in  the  bottom  of  it. 
Besides,'  says  I, '  stoves  is  a  sight  cleaner  and 
nicer,  Mr.  Richmond,  and  they  don't  smoke 
nor  nothin',  and  they're  always  ready.'  '  I'll 
take  care  of  the  fire,'  says  he,  '  if  you'll  take 
care  of  the  ashes.'  Well,  it  had  to  be  ;  but  I 
declare  I  thought  I  should  have  enough  to  do 
to  take  care  of  the  ashes ;  a-flyin'  over  every- 
thing in  the  world  as  they  would,  and  nobody 
but  my  two  hands  to  dust  with  ;  but  I  do  be- 
lieve the  minister's  wood  burns  quieter  than 
other  folks',  and  somehow  it  don't  fly  nor 


52  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

smoke  nor  nothin',  and  the  room  keeps  de- 
cent." 

"  Your  whole  house  is  as  neat  as  a  pin. 
But  you  have  no  children  there  to  put  it  out 
of  order,  Miss  Redwood." 

"  Guess  we  do,"  said  the  minister's  house- 
keeper quietly  ;  "  there  ain't  any  sort  o'  thing 
in  the  village  but  the  minister  has  it  in  there 
by  turns.  There  ain't  any  sort  o'  shoes  as 
walks,  not  to  speak  of  boots,  that  don't  go 
over  my  carpets  and  floors ;  little  and  big,  and 
brushed  and  unbrushed.  I  tell  you,  Mis' 
Englefield,  they're  goin'  in  between  them  two 
doors  all  the  week  long." 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  manage  then,  I'm 
sure." 

"  Well  I  don't,"  said  the  housekeeper.  «  The 
back  is  fitted  to  the  burden,  they  say ;  and  I 
always  did  pray  that  if  I  had  work  to  do,  I 
might  be  able  to  do  it;  and  I  always  was, 
somehow.  And  it's  a  first-rate  place  to  go 
and  warm  your  feet,  when  the  minister  is  out," 
she  added  after  a  pause. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  53 

»<  What  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Englefield  laughing. 

"  The  minister's  fire,  to  be  sure,  that  I  was 
talkin'  about.  Of  course,  I  have  to  go  in  to 
see  it's  safe,  when  he  ain't  there ;  and  some- 
times I  think  it's  cheaper  to  sit  down  and 
watch  it  than  to  be  always  runnin'." 

"  Mr.  Richmond  was  a  lucky  man  when  he 
got  you  for  a  housekeeper,"  said  Mrs.  Engle- 
field. 

«  Well  —  I  don't  know  "  —  said  Miss  Red- 
wood contemplatively,  with  rather  a  sweet 
look  on  her  old  face.  "  I  'spose  I  might  as 
well  say  I  was  a  lucky  woman  when  I  got  his 
house  to  keep.  It  come  all  by  chance,  too, 
you  may  say  "  — 

"  Mamma,  tea  is  ready,"  Maria  here  inter- 
rupted. 

"  Miss  Redwood,  will  you  come  down  .and 
have  tea  with  us  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  what  I  come  to  ask  was  some- 
thin'  different.  I  was  so  taken  up  with  my 
soap-kettle  all  day,  I  just  forgot  somethin' 
more  important,  and  didn't  make  no  new 


54  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

risin' ;  and  I  hain't  got  none  to-night  for  the 
minister's  bread.  I  know  you're  one  of  the 
folks  that  likes  sweet  bread,  Mis'  Englefield, 
and  has  it ;  and  I've  come  to  beg  a  cup  o* 
your  risin'." 

One  of  the  girls  was  sent  for  the  article,  and 
Mrs.  Englefield  went  on. 

"  The  minister's  an  easy  man  to  live  with, 
I  suppose ;  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  What  sort  do  you  mean  by  that,  Mrs. 
Englefield?" 

"  Why !  —  I  mean  he  is  easily  suited,  and 
don't  give  more  trouble  than  can  be  helped, 
and  don't  take  it  hard  when  things  go  wrong. 

"Things  don't  go  wrong,  fur's  I  know," 
said  Miss  Redwood.  "  Not  with  him,  nor  with 
me." 

"•Easily  pleased,  isn't  he?" 

"  When  folks  do  just  what  they'd  ought  to 
do,  he  is,"  said  the  housekeeper  with  some 
energy.  "  I  have  no  sort  of  patience,  for  my 
part,  with  the  folks  that  are  pleased  when 
they  hadn't  ought  to  be  pleased." 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD,"  55 

"  But  isn't  that  what  Mr.  Richmond  preaches 
to  us  all  the  time  ?  that  we  ought  to  be  pleased 
with  everybody  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  mamma ! "  said  Matilda. 

«  I  thought  he  did." 

"  I  take  it  t'other  way,"  Miss  Redwood  ob- 
served. "  It  comes  close,  it  does,  some  of  the 
minister's  talk ;  but  I  always  think,  if  I  had  a 
right  to  be  better  pleased  with  myself  maybe 
other  folks1  onesidedness  wouldn't  worry  me. 
I'll  do  as  much  for  you,  next  time,  Miss  Letty," 
she  said  rising  to  take  what  that  young  lady 
had  brought  her.  And  therewith  away  she 
went. 

"  Well,  we  have  got  off  with  our  lives  this 
time,"  said  Mrs.  Englefield.  "  Now,  girls,  let 
us  have  tea." 

"  Mamma,  I  believe  here  they  are  this 
minute,"  said  Matilda.  "  The  omnibus  is 
stopping." 

It  was  declared  to  be  impossible  ;  but  never- 
theless found  true.  The  omnibus  was  cer 
tainly  at  the  door,  backing  down  upon  the 


56  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

sidewalk ;  and  two  figures  did  get  out  of  it 
and  came  through  the  little  courtyard  to  the 
house.  And  then  all  doubts  were  resolved; 
Mrs.  Candy  was  in  the  arms  of  her  sister,  and 
the  cousins  were  looking  at  each  other. 

That  is,  as  soon  as  people  could  get  theii 
wrappings  off.  Letty  and  Maria  were  assidu- 
ous in  their  endeavours  to  relieve  Miss  Clarissa 
of  her  hood  and  furs  and  the  cloakings  and 
mufflings  which  a  night  ride  had  rendered 
necessary ;  while  Anne  waited  upon  her 
aunt;  and  impressions  were  forming  and 
opinions  taking  ground,  under  all  the  con- 
fused chatter  about  the  journey,  the  train,  the 
omnibus,  and  the  "  City  of  Pride;"  opinions 
and  impressions  which  were  likely  enough 
to  get  turned  topsy-turvy  in  another  day 
or  two;  but  for  the  present  nobody  knew 
that. 

"  And  here  is  somebody  who  says  nothing ! " 
Mrs.  Candy  remarked,  stooping  down  to  touch 
Matilda's  hair  with  a  light  finger. 

"Tilly  does   the   thinking  for  the  family," 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  57 

said  Mrs.  Englefield.  "  Now  do  come  down 
and  have  some  tea." 

"Down?  Where  are  we  going?"  said 
Mrs.  Candy.  "  Your  house  stands  on  the 
ground  level,  I  noticed." 

"  O,  we  have  a  very  nice  basement;  and 
just  for  eating,  you  know,  it  does  not  make 
much  difference  where  you  are,  —  and  it'is  so 
much  more  convenient,  being  near  the 
kitchen." 

"  In  Germany  we  used  to  take  our  meals 
in  the  open  air  a  great  deal,"  Mrs.  Candy  went 
on,  as  the  party  filed  down  the  narrow  stairs. 

"  In  the  open  air !     Not  at  this  season  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  with  the  thermometer  at  zero," 
said  Mrs.  Candy  laughing  a  little.  "  Nor  at 
quite  so  high  a  temperature  as  you  have 
here!" 

The  room  downstairs  was  bright  enough, 
and  looked  cheerful,  with  its  well  spread  table 
and  tea  urn  ;  but  it  was  low,  and  full  of  close 
stove  heat.  The  travellers  got  as  far  from  the 
source  of  this  as  the  limits  of  the  table  would 


58  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

let  them,  and  presently  begged  for  an  open 
door.  But  Mrs.  Englefield's  tea  was  good ; 
and  very  soon  the  family  talk  began  to  move 
naturally.  Mrs.  Candy  pleased  her  nieces. 
A  fine  looking  and  also  a  kind  looking  woman, 
with  a  good  figure,  well  clothed  in  a  hand- 
some travelling  dress ;  a  gold  watch  and  chain ; 
and  an  easy,  good  humoured,  and  at  the  same 
time  sensible  air  and  way  of  talking.  It  was 
not  difficult  to  get  acquainted  with  her ;  she 
met  all  advances  more  than  half  way;  and 
her  talk  even  that  first  evening  was  full  of 
amusement  and  novelty  for  the  young  people. 
It  was  less  easy  to  know  what  to  think  of 
Clarissa.  Her  cousins  held  a  consultation 
about  her  that  night  before  going  to  sleep. 
"  She  looks  as  old  as  Letty." 
"  But  she  isn't.  O,  she  don't,  either." 
"  She's  well  looking ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 
« I'll  tell  you  what  I  think,"  said  Matilda. 
«  She's  beau-ti-ful." 

« I  don't  think  so,"  said  Letty ;  "  but  she's 
an  uncommon  looking  girl." 


*WHAT  SHE   COULD"  59 

« How  old  is  she?" 

"  She  is  sixteen." 

"  Well !  Maria's  only  half  a  year  younger 
than  that." 

"  She  hasn't  said  three  words  yet ;  so 
I  cannot  tell  what  shte  is,"  Anne  re- 
marked. 

"  She  didn't  like  going  down  into  the  base- 
ment," said  Letty. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  I  know  she  didn't !  " 

"  I  should  like  to  know  where  she  would 
go  ;  there  is  no  other  place,"  said  Maria. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  just  what  she  didn't 
like,"  said  Letitia. 

"  There  might  be,  though,"  Matilda  began 
again.  "  If  mamma  would  open  the  back  room 
behind  the  parlour,  and  move  the  table  and 
things  up  there, —  I  think  it  would  be  a  great 
deal  pleasanter." 

"That's  like  Matilda!"  the  other  girls  ex- 
claimed in  chorus. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  that  basement  room  is 


60  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

pleasant,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  never  did.  I  am 
always  glad  to  get  out  of  it." 

"  And  now,  I  suppose,  you  will  be  taking  all 
Clarissa's  dainty  ways,  in  addition  to  your 
own ! "  said  Letitia.  "  I  wonder  what  will 
become  of  the  rest  of  us." 

"  What  dainty  ways  has  Clarissa  ?  "  Matilda 
inquired. 

"  You  can  see  for  yourself.  She  doesn't 
like  the  heat  of  a  stove!  and  she  must 
look  at  her  watch  to  see  what  time  it 
is,  though  the  clock  was  right  opposite  to 
her." 

"  I  am  sure  I  would  look  at  a  watch,  if  I  had 
it,"  Matilda  added. 

"  And  did  you  see  what  travelling  gloves 
she  wore  ?  " 

"  Why  not?"  said  Matilda. 

"  Why  not,  of  course !  you  will  have  no 
eyes  for  any  one  shortly  but  Clarissa  Candy ; 
I  can  see  it.  But  she  is  a  member  of  the 
church,  isn't  she  ?  " 

«  What  if  she  is  ?  "  said  Matilda.   "  Mamma 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  6 1 

read  that  in  one  of  Aunt  Candy's  letters,  I 
remember." 

"  We'll  see  what  Mr.  Richmond  will  say  to 
her.  Maria  reports  that  he  does  not  like  red 
flowers ;  I  wonder  what  he  will  think  of  some 
other  things." 

"  That  is  only  Maria's  nonsense,"  Matilda 
insisted.  "  I  know  Mr.  Richmond  likes  red 
flowers ;  he  has  got  a  red  lily  in  his  room." 

"  In  his  room  —  oh  yes  !  but  not  in  people's 
bonnets,  you  know ;  nor  in  their  heads ;  if  they 
are  Christians." 

"  I  can't  imagine  what  people's  being  Chris- 
tians has  to  do  with  red  flowers,"  said  Matilda. 
"  Besides,  Clarissa  hadn't  any  flowers  about 
her  at  all.  I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
of." 

"  Didn't  you  see  her  gold  chain,  though, 
that  hung  round  her  neck  ?  " 

"  Her  watch  was  on  that.  Mayn't  Chris- 
tians wear  gold  chains?  What  nonsense  you 
do  talk,  Letitia!" 

"  I  shouldn't  want  to  be  a  Christian  if  I 


62  "  WHA  T  SHE  COULD." 

thought  I  couldn't  wear  anything,"  Maria  re» 
marked. 

"  Nor  would  I,"  said  Letitia.  "  So  I  advise 
you,  my  dears,  to  be  a  little  careful  how  you 
join  Bands  and  such  things.  You  may  find 
that  Mr.  Richmond  is  not  just  the  sort  of 
Christian  you  want  to  be." 

The  conclave  broke  up,  having  reached 
a  termination  of  general  dissatisfaction  com- 
mon to  such  conclaves.  Maria  went  to 
bed  grumbling.  Matilda  was  as  usual  si- 
lent. 

The  next  day,  however,  found  all  the  family 
as  bright  as  itself.  It  was  a  cold  day  in  Jan- 
uary ;  snow  on  the  ground;  a  clear  sharp  sun- 
shine glittering  from  white  roofs  and  fence  tops 
and  the  banks  of  snow  heaped  against  the 
fences,  and  shining  on  twigs  and  branches 
of  the  bare  trees  ;  coming  into  houses  with  its 
cheery  and  keen  look  at  everything  it  found, 
as  if  bidding  the  dark  sides  of  things,  and  the 
dusty  corners,  to  change  their  characters  and 
be  light  and  fair.  In  the  basement  the  family 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  63 

gathered  for  breakfast  in  happy  mood,  ready 
to  be  pleased  with  each  other  ;  so  pleasure  was 
the  order  of  the  day.  Pleasure  had  a  good 
deal  to  feed  on,  too  ;  for  after  the  long  break- 
fast was  over  and  the  conversation  had 
adjourned  to  the  parlour,  there  came  the 
bestowing  of  presents  which  Clarissa  had 
brought  for  her  friends.  And  they  were  so 
many  and  so  satisfactory,  that  the  criticisms 
of  the  past  night  were  certainly  for  the  present 
forgotten ;  Letitia  forgave  her  cousin  her 
daintiness,  and  Maria  overlooked  the  gold 
watch.  Matilda  as  usual  said  little,  beyond 
the  civil  needful  words,  which  that  little  girl 
always  spoke  gracefully. 

"  You  are  a  character,  my  dear,  I  see,"  her 
aunt  observed,  drawing  Matilda  to  her  side 
caressingly. 

"  What  is  that,  Aunt  Candy  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,  my  dear,"  her  aunt 
answered  laughing;  "you  put  me  to  define 
and  prove  my  words  and  you  bring  me  into 
difficulty.  I  think,  however,  I  shall  be  safe  in 


64  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

saying,  that  a  '  character '  is  a  person  who  has 
his  own  thoughts." 

"  But  doesn't  everybody  ?  " 

"  Have  his  own  thoughts  ?  No,  my  dear ; 
the  majority  have  the  thoughts  of  other 
people." 

"  How  can  they,  Aunt  Candy  ?  " 

"Just  by  not  thinking  for  themselves.  It 
saves  a  great  deal  of  trouble." 

"  But  we  all  think  for  ourselves,"  said  Ma- 
tilda. 

"  Do  we  ?  Reflect  a  little.  Don't  some  of 
you  think  like  other  people  ?  —  about  ways  of 
doing,  and  acting,  and  dressing,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  O  yes.  But  —  Aunt  Candy  —  if  people 
think  for  themselves,  must  they  do  unlike  other 
people  ?  " 

"  If  they  follow  out  their  thoughts,  they 
must,  child." 

"  That  suits  Matilda  then,"  said  her  sister 
Anne. 

"  Well,  it  is  very  nice  for  a  family  to  have 
one  character  in  it,"  said  Mrs.  Candy. 


«  WHA  T  SHE   GOULDS  65 

"  But,  Aunt  Candy,  isn't  Clarissa  a  charac- 
ter too  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  Tilly;  I  really  have  not 
found  it  out,  if  she  is.  Up  to  this  time  she 
always  thinks  as  I  think.  Now  she  has  given 
you  the  tokens  of  remembrance  she  has 
brought  home  for  you ;  —  what  do  you  think 
I  have  got  ?  " 

"  O  aunt, nothing  more!"  exclaimed  Anne. 

"  Clarissa  and  I  are  two  people,  if  neither 
of  us  is  a  character  however,"  said  Mrs. 
Candy.  "  Her  gifts  are  not  my  gifts.  But 
mine  shall  be  different  from  hers.  And  if 
there  is  more  than  one  character  among  us,  I 
should  like  to  find  it  out;  and  this  will  do  it." 

So  saying,  she  fetched  out  her  purse  and 
presented  to  each  of  her  sister's  children  a 
bank-note  for  twenty  five  dollars. 

Mrs.  Englefield  exclaimed  and  protested. 
But  Mrs.  Candy  laid  her  hand  on  her  sister's 
mouth  and  declared  she  must  please  herself 
in  her  own  way. 

"  What  do  you  want  us  to  do  with  this 
5 


66  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

Aunt  Candy  ?  "  Matilda  inquired  in  a  sort  of 
contemplative  wonder. 

"  Just  whatever  will  please  you,  will  please 
each  of  you,  best.  Only  that.  That  is  my 
condition,  girls,  if  I  may  call  it  so.  You  are 
not  to  spend  that  money  for  any  claims  of 
duty  or  conscience  —  but  simply  in  that 
way  which  will  afford  you  the  highest  pleas- 
ure." 

Thanks  were  warm  and  gratification  very 
high ;  and  in  the  best  mood  in  the  world  the 
new  relations  sat  down  to  talk  to  each  other 
and  study  each  other  for  the  remainder  of  the 
day.  Clarissa  pleased  her  cousins.  She  was 
undoubtedly  extremely  pretty,  with  big  brown 
honest  eyes,  that  gave  a  good  full  look  into 
the  face  she  was  speaking  to ;  beautiful  hair 
a  little  lighter  in  colour,  and  great  sweetness 
of  outline  and  feature.  Yet  she  was  reserved ; 
very  quiet ;  very  self-possessed ;  to  a  degree 
that  almost  carried  an  air  of  superiority  in 
the  minds  of  her  cousins.  Those  large  brown 
eyes  of  hers  would  be  lifted  swiftly  to  the  face 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  67 

of  some  one  speaking,  and  then  go  down 
again,  with  no  sign  of  agreeing  or  disagree- 
ing, indeed  with  no  sign  of  her  thought  at 
all ;  but  she  had  thoughts  of  course ;  why 
should  she  not  show  them,  as  her  cousins  did  ? 
It  was  almost  supercilious,  to  the  fancy  of 
Anne  and  Letitia ;  Matilda  and  Maria  were 
fascinated.  Then  her  hands  were  more  deli- 
cate than  those  of  Mrs.  Englefield's  children ; 
and  there  were  one  or  two  costly  rings  on 
them.  Anne  and  Letty  did  not  understand 
their  value,  but  nevertheless  even  they  could 
guess  that  they  belonged  to  a  superior  de- 
scription of  jewellery  from  that  which  was 
displayed  beneath  the  glass  cases  of  Mr. 
Kurtz,  the  watchmaker  of  Shadywalk.  Then 
Clarissa's  dress  was  of  fine  quality,  and  made 
beautifully,  and  her  little  gold  watch  with  its 
chain  "  put  a  finish  upon  it,"  Anne  said.  A 
little  hair  necklace  with  a  gold  clasp  was 
round  her  neck  besides ;  and  her  comb  was 
real  tortoise-shell.  Clarissa  was  dainty,  there 
was  no  doubt;  but  her  sweet  mouth  was 


68  "  WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

grave  and  modest ;  her  words  were  few ;  her 
manners  were  very  kindly  and  proper;  and 
her  cousins  on  the  whole  were  obliged  to 
approve  her. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"  TT7HAT  is  all  this  hurry  about?  "  Clarissa 
inquired  one  evening,  as  they  were 
going  downstairs  in  answer  to  the  tea-bell , 
"  why  are  we  earlier  than  usual  ?  Anne  saya 
we  are." 

"  O,  because  it  is  prayer  meeting  night  — 
no,  not  prayer  meeting,  it  isn't  either,  but  oui 
Band  meeting ;  and  we  have  to  be  early  for 
that,  you  know.  O,  you  don't  know  any- 
thing about  our  Band ;  but  you  will,  to-night. 
You'll  join  it,  won't  you,  Clarissa  ?  " 

"  I  know  something  about  Bands,"  said 
Clarissa ;  "  but  I  never  belonged  to  one.  Is 
it  the  custom  here  for  ladies  to  do  such 
things  ?  " 

"  What  things?  And  do  you  know  about 
Bands?  like  ours?" 


70  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

"  I  dare  say  I  shall  find  I  have  something  to 
learn,"  said  Clarissa. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  to  learn  from  Mr. 
Richmond,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Maria.  "  O, 
you  don't  know  Mr.  Richmond,  you  haven't 
seen  him,  because  Sunday  was  so  stormy. 
Well,  you'll  see  him  to-night." 

"  Aunt  Englefield,"  said  Clarissa  when  they 
were  seated  at  the  tea-table,  —  "is  your  Mr. 
Richmond  Band-master  as  well  as  clergy- 
man?" 

"  Bands  are  a  mystery  to  me,  Clarissa," 
said  Mrs.  Englefield ;  "  I  do  not  understand 
Maria  when  she  gets  upon  that  subject.  I 
hope  you  will  be  able  to  enlighten  me  some 
time.  Are  you  going  to-night  ?  —  well,  then, 
I  shall  hope  to  be  wiser  when  you  return." 

Tea  was  hurried  through,  cloaks  and  furs 
and  hoods  and  all  sorts  of  wrappings  were 
put  on ;  and  the  party  set  forth ;  Anne  and 
Letitia  this  time  going  along.  It  was  pleas- 
anter  out  than  in.  White  streets  and  clear 
starlight,  and  still,  cold,  fine  air.  About  the 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  71 

corner  a  few  men  and  boys  were  congregated, 
as  usual ;  after  passing  them  and  turning  into 
the  other  street,  few  passengers  were  to  be 
seen.  Here  and  there  one,  or  a  group,  mak- 
ing for  the  lecture-room ;  here  and  there  some- 
body seeking  a  friend's  house  for  pleasure ; 
nobody  was  out  on  business  at  Shadywalk  in 
the  evening,  and  no  wagons  or  sleighs  got 
belated  in  the  darkness.  It  would  have  been, 
very  dark,  but  for  the  snow  and  the  stars. 
There  were  no  shop  windows  illuminated,  and 
no  lamps  along  the  street  and  no  gas  any- 
where. Past  the  shut-up  houses  and  stores, 
in  the  dim  snowy  street,  the  little  cluster  of 
girls  went  swiftly  on. 

"  You  are  in  a  great  hurry,"  said  Clarissa. 

"  O,  we  want  to  get  there  before  any- 
thing  begins,"  Maria  said.  "  And  it's  cold, 
besides!" 

"  What  church  is  this  we  are  passing  ?  " 

"  O,  this  is  our  church.  You  haven't  seen 
it.  It  is  real  nice  inside." 

"Not  outside?"   said  Clarissa.     "Well,  I 


72  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

cannot  see  it  in  this  light.  And  is  that  next 
place  the  one  we  are  going  to  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  our  lecture-room.  That's  very 
nice." 

So  it  was.  Pleasant  light  from  withinside 
streamed  warm  through  the  hanging  window- 
blinds  of  the  long  windows,  and  promised  wel- 
come before  they  got  in.  At  the  door,  under 
the  projecting  hood,  a  lamp  shone  bright  upon 
the  entrance  steps.  People  were  flocking  in. 
The  opening  door  let  them  into  a  cheerful 
room,  not  large,  with  long  rows  of  seats  on 
either  hand  of  a  wide  matted  aisle  ;  the  view 
closed  by  a  little  desk  at  the  further  end  on  a 
raised  platform.  Right  and  left  of  the  desk, 
two  small  transepts  did  somewhat  to  enlarge 
the  accommodations  of  the  place ;  which  had 
a  cozy,  home  look,  comfortable  and  bright. 

«  Where  do  those  doors  lead  to  ?  "  Clarissa 
whispered ;  —  "  behind  the  desk  ?  " 

"  O,  those  open  to  the  infant  class  room. 
Isn't  it  nice  ?  "  Maria  answered. 

"  It  is  small,"  said  Clarissa. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  73 

"  It  is  large  enough,  though.  We  shall  not 
fill  it  to-night." 

And  they  did  not.  There  was  only  a  little 
company  gathered,  of  various  ages.  Some 
quite  grown  people  ;  many  who  were  younger. 
They  had  drawn  towards  the  upper  end  of 
the  room,  and  clustered  near  the  platform. 

"  There  is  Mr.  Richmond,"  Maria  whis- 
pered presently ;  "  do  you  see  him  ?  he  is  up 
there  near  the  desk  talking  to  Mr.  Barker, — 
Mr.  Barker  is  one  of  our  teachers,  but  he  haa 
got  nothing  to  do  with  the  Band.  That  is 
Mrs.  Trembleton,  isn't  she  pretty  ?  —  sitting 
down  there  in  front;  she  always  sits  just 
there,  if  she  can,  and  I  have  seen  her  ever  so 
put  out  if  she  couldn't  —  when  somebody  else 
had  got  it,  you  know.  And  there  "  — 

"  But,  Maria,"  whispered  Clarissa  gravely, 
"  do  you  think  it  is  quite  proper  to  whisper  so 
in  church  ?  " 

«  This  isn't  church ! "  Maria  replied  with 
great  readiness. 

"  What  then  ?  " 


74  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

"  Why,  it  is  only  our  Sunday  school  room 
and  this  is  a  Band  meeting." 

"It  looks  very  like  church  to  me,"  said 
Clarissa.  "  Hush !  — don't  whisper  any  more." 

For  the  minister  now  took  his  stand  at  the 
little  desk  before  mentioned ;  and  even  Maria 
was  quiet  enough  during  the  prayer  with 
which  he  began  the  proceedings.  But  then 
Mr.  Richmond  came  in  front  of  the  desk,  and 
began  to  speak,  seriously  indeed,  but  with  an 
easy  simplicity  which  Clarissa  thought  was 
"  not  like  church." 

"  It  may  not  be  known  to  everybody  pres- 
ent," Mr.  Richmond  began,  "  exactly  what 
was  done  at  our  last  meeting  here  Thursday 
night.  I  wish  it  to  be  very  well  understood, 
that  every  one  may  join  with  us  in  the  action 
we  took,  intelligently ;  —  or  keep  away  from 
it,  intelligently.  I  wish  it  to  be  thoroughly 
understood.  We  simply  pledged  ourselves, 
some  of  us  who  were  here  Thursday  night,  to 
live  and  work  for  Christ  to  the  best  and  the 
utmost  of  our  ability,  as  He  would  give  us 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  75 

grace  to  do.  We  pledged  ourselves  to  each 
other  and  to  our  Master ;  to  the  end  that  we 
might  the  better  help  each  other,  being  so 
pledged;  and  that  we  might  enter  into  some 
system  and  plan  of  work  by  which  we  might 
accomplish  much  more  than  we  could  hope  to 
do  without  plan  or  system.  I  have  a  list  in 
my  hand,  of  various  kinds  of  work  which  it 
may  be  well  for  us  to  attempt ;  some  kinds 
will  suit  some  people  and  other  kinds  will  suit 
other  people ;  but  before  we  go  into  a  consid- 
eration of  these,  I  will  read  something  else  to 
you.  We  must  do  this  thing  —  we  must 
enter  into  this  pledge  to  God  and  each  other, 
those  of  us  who  enter  into  it,  —  knowing  ex- 
actly what  we  do,  and  if  possible,  why  we  do 
it.  I  have  drawn  up  in  a  few  words  what  we 
mean,  or  what  we  ought  to  mean,  in  giving 
this  pledge ;  and  now  I  am  going  to  read  it 
to  you ;  and  after  I  have  read  it  I  shall  ask  all 
of  you  who  have  heard  it  and  agreed  to  it,  to 
rise  up,  without  any  regard  to  the  question 
whether  you  were  among  those  who  rose  last 


76  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

Thursday  or  not.  I  wish  no  one  to  stand 
who  does  not  fully  and  intelligently  agree  to 
every  word  of  this  covenant ;  —  but  I  hope 
that  will  be  the  case  with  every  one  of  you 
all.  The  children  can  understand  it  as 
well  as  the  grown  people.  This  is  the  cove- 
nant. 

"  '  We  are  the  servants  of  Christ. 

"  '  And  as  he  died  for  all,  that  they  which 
live  should  not  live  unto  themselves  but  unto 
him  —  so  we  do  not  count  ourselves  to  belong 
to  ourselves.  We  are  the  Lord's. 

" '  We  want  to  do  all  we  can  do,  that  would 
please  him  and  honour  him,  whether  it  be  in 
our  own  hearts  or  in  the  world. 

"  '  So  we  stand  ready  to  do  his  will ;  in  tell- 
ing the  good  news  to  others ;  in  shewing  how 
precious  we  hold  it ;  in  carrying  help  of  every 
sort  to  our  neighbour,  upon  every  opportunity ; 
walking  as  children  of  the  Light;  if  by  any 
means  we  may  advance  our  Lord's  kingdom 
and  glory. 

" '  And  all  this  we  will  try  to  do,  by  his 


"  WHA  T  SHE  COULD."  77 

help,  —  trusting  in  his  grace  and  resting  in 
his  promises,  whose  word  cannot  fail.'  " 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Richmond  when  he  had 
read  this,  which  he  read  very  slowly  and  de- 
liberately, as  if  he  wished  that  every  one 
should  weigh  every  word,  "  I  am  going  to  ask 
you  to  rise  and  so  declare  your  agreement 
with  this  covenant  —  all  of  you  who  have 
heard  and  understood  it,  and  who  are  ready 
to  pledge  yourselves  to  its  responsibilities. 
Every  one  whose  own  mind  and  wish  this 
covenant  expresses  will  please  rise." 

The  little  stir  which  this  request  occasioned 
through  the  room,  left  few  of  the  assembly  in 
their  seats.  Maria,  as  soon  as  she  was  upon 
her  feet,  looked  to  see  how  it  was  with  her 
companions.  To  her  great  satisfaction, 
Clarissa  was  standing  beside  her;  but  Anne 
and  Letitia  were  sitting  in  their  places,  and 
so  was  Matilda  in  hers  beyond  them.  Maria 
frowned  and  nodded  at  her;  but  Mr.  Rich- 
mond had  desired  the  people  to  sit  down 
again  before  these  signs  could  take  any  effect, 


78  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

"  It  is  as  I  hoped,"  Mr.  Richmond  said  in  a 
satisfied  voice.  "  I  have  no  alteration  to 
make  in  my  lists,  beyond  the  addition  of  one 
or  two  new  names  ;  and  that  sort  of  alteration 
J  shall  be  glad  to  make  whenever  people  will 
let  me.  I  will  receive  new  names  at  any  time, 
of  those  who  wish  to  join  our  Band  —  our 
Working  Band.  I  do  not  know  what  we 
shall  call  ourselves ;  but  one  thing  is  certain, 
we  mean  to  be  a  working  people.  Now  sup- 
pose we  see  what  kinds  of  work  we  are 
prepared  to  undertake  —  each  one  of  us  in  par- 
ticular. Of  course,  we  are  all  to  do  all  we 
can  and  of  all  kinds  ;  but  there  are  some  kinds 
of  work  that  each  one  can  do  better  than  he 
can  do  others ;  and  to  those  particular  lines  of 
effort  each  one  will  pledge  himself  to  give 
special  attention. 

"  The  first  thing  on  my  list,  is,  — 
"'Bringing    new    scholars    to    the   school! 
Who  will  take  this  as  his  special  work  ?    Ob- 
serve, it  is  not  meant  that  you   should  ask 
any  children  to  come  to  our  school  who  are 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD?  79 

already  members  of  some  other  school.  We 
do  not  wish  that.  But  who  will  undertake  to 
look  out  and  bring  in  some  of  the  children 
that  go  nowhere  ?  All  who  want  to  do  this» 
raise  your  hands." 

There  was  a  show  of  hands. 

"  We  must  have  a  secretary,"  said  Mr. 
Richmond.  "  Mr.  Van  Dyke,  here  is  paper 
and  ink,  —  will  you  kindly  come  and  write 
for  us  ?  We  want  to  put  down  all  the  names 
that  enlist  in  this  department  of  work.  This 
is  Number  One.  Put  down,  opposite  to  Num- 
ber One,  Mattie  Van  Dyke,  Willie  Edwards, 
Mary  Edwards,  Maria  Englefield,"  — 

Mr.  Richmond  went  on  giving  the  names 
until  some  eight  or  ten  were  registered.  The 
children  looked  delighted.  It  was  great 
doings. 

The  next  thing  on  Mr.  Richmond's  list  was 
the  "School  singing"  He  explained  that  he 
wished  the  special  attention  of  those  who 
could  give  it,  to  this  matter;  that  they  should 
always  stand  ready  to  help  the  singing  in  the 


8o  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

Sunday  school,  and  make  it  just  as  good  as 
it  could  be,  and  keep  it  good  ;  that  they  should 
not  wait  for  others,  if  there  was  no  one  to 
lead,  but  start  the  hymn  themselves  and  carry 
it  through  with  spirit. 

There  were  not  so  many  that  pledged  them- 
selves to  this  work,  but  as  before,  Maria  was 
one. 

The  third  thing,  was  "  Welcoming  strangers 
and  new  scholars"  in  the  church  and  in  the 
school.  Here  a  breeze  sprung  up.  Mr.  Rich-, 
mond  had  remarked  upon  the  great  impor- 
tance of  this  duty  and  the  common  neglect  of 
it ;  nevertheless  there  seemed  to  be  some  pros- 
pect that  the  neglect  would  continue.  Mrs. 
Trembleton  asked,  "  How  were  such  strangers 
to  be  welcomed  ?  " 

"  What  would  you  like  yourself,  Mrs.  Trem- 
bleton ?  Suppose  you  were  to  go  to  a  strange 
church,  where  you  knew  nobody.  Would  it 
be  pleasant  to  have  some  one  come  up  and 
take  your  hand  and  say  you  were  wel- 
come? and  give  you  a  greeting  when  you 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD?  8 1 

met  in  the  street  ?  —  perhaps  come  to  see 
you  ?  " 

"I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Trembleton  after  a 
pause,  "  it  would  depend  a  good  deal  on  who 
it  was  did  it!" 

«  Whether  it  would  be  pleasant  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Richmond  smiling.  "  But  you  do  not  doubt 
that  it  would  be  pleasant  to  any  stranger  to 
have  you  come  up  and  speak  and  shake  hands, 
and  do  such  offices  of  kindness  ?  " 

"  It  might  be  pleasant  to  them,"  said  Mrs. 
Trembleton.  "  I  don't  think  I  should  like  to 
do  it,  to  everybody.". 

"  What  do  you  say,  Miss  Benyon  ?  "  Mr. 
Richmond  asked. 

"  O,  I  couldn't,  Mr.  Richmond!  "  the  young 
lady  answered  shrinking. 

"  I'll  do  it,"  spoke  out  one  of  the  boys. 

"  George  Lockwood  will  welcome  stran- 
gers, Mr.  Van  Dyke,"  said  the  minister.  "  And 
Willie  Edwards  holds  up  his  hand,  —  and  Ben 
Barth.  But  shall  we  have  none  but  the  boys 
to  do  the  welcoming  ?  The  new  scholars  will 
6 


82  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

not  be  all  boys.  Ah,  there  is  Miss  Peach; 
Ellen  Peach,  Mr.  Van  Dyke;  —  and  Maria 
Englefield,  —  and  Sarah  Bent." 

"  Won't  it  make  confusion  in  the  school  ?  " 
Mr.  Van  Dyke  suggested. 

"  Will  not  what  make  confusion  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  half  a  dozen  scholars  are  jumping 
up  and  leaving  their  classes,  to  receive  some- 
body who  is  coming  in  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  that  they  should  choose  les- 
son time  —  or  school  time  at  all — for  their  kind 
civilities.  After  school  is  over  —  or  when 
meeting  in  the  street  —  or  going  into  church. 
Opportunities  will  present  themselves.  It  is 
rather  the  will  that  seems  to  be  wanting,  than 
the  way." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  spoke  out  another  lady, 
"  this  welcoming  of  strangers  is  everybody's 
business." 

"  Proverbially,  nobody's  business,  Misa 
Fitch,"  Mr.  Richmond  answered  with  a 
smile.  "  You  will  leave  it  for  me  to  do ;  and 
I  shall  conclude  that  Mrs.  Trembleton  will 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  83 

attend  to  it;  Mrs.  Trembleton  does  not  like 
the  charge ;  —  and  there  we  are.  Esther,  what 
do  you  say  ?  " 

"  O,  I  should  not  like  to  do  it,  Mr.  Rich- 
mond ! " 

Nobody  seemed  to  like  to  do  it.  Some 
were  shy;  some  were  humble,  or  thought 
they  were;  some  fancied  themselves  of  too 
little  consequence  ;  some  of  too  much  !  Mr. 
Richmond  went  on  to  the  next  thing,  which 
was  "  Temperance,  Work."  Here  there  was 
no  want  of  volunteers.  Boys  and  girls,  and 
young  ladies,  and  even  men,  were  ready  to 
pledge  themselves  to  this  cause.  The  names 
were  many.  It  took  some  time  to  get  them 
all  down. 

Then  came  what  Mr.  Richmond's  list 
called  "Aid  and  Comfort;"  and  which  he 
explained  to  mean,  the  giving  of  all  sorts  of 
material  and  social  aid  that  the  cases  of  sick 
and  poor  and  distressed  might  call  for.  Any- 
body who  would  visit  such  cases,  and  provide 
or  procure  what  they  needed,  or  anybody  un- 


84  "WHAT  SHE  COULD:'' 

able  to  visit  who  would  furnish  the  necessary 
supplies  if  called  upon,  might  be  enrolled  on 
this  committee.  Plenty  of  people  were  ready 
for  this. 

"  Visiting  absent  scholars "  found  quite  a 
number  willing  to  engage  in  it.  The  cause 
of  "  Missionary  Collections "  and  "  Sunday 
school  prayer  meetings"  found  but  few; 
evidently  those  were  not  popular  objects. 
"  Promoting  attendance  upon  church "  did 
not  meet  with  much  favour.  The  tenth  de- 
partment of  work  was  "  Carrying  the  Mes- 
sage" This  Mr.  Richmond  explained  to 
mean,  the  telling  the  good  news  of  Christ  to 
all  who  have  not  heard  or  who  do  not  accept 
it ;  to  everybody  we  can  reach,  at  home  and 
abroad,  wherever  we  may.  There  were  not 
a  few  who  were  ready  to  pledge  themselves 
to  this  ;  as  also  to  "  Bible  Reading"  in  houses 
where  sickness  or  poverty  or  ignorance  made 
such  work  desirable.  But  "  Tract  Distribu- 
ting," which  one  would  have  thought  a  very 
kindred  effort  with  the  two  last,  was  much 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  85 

more  cautiously  undertaken.  Some  boys 
were  ready  for  it ;  a  few  girls ;  very  few  grown 
up  people  of  either  sex. 

The  young  people  of  Mrs.  Englefield's  fam- 
ily walked  home  more  silently  than  they  had 
come.  To  be  sure,  there  was  a  little  throng 
of  persons  going  their  way ;  they  could  not 
speak  in  private.  So  under  the  still,  bright 
stars,  they  went  home  without  telling  any  of 
their  thoughts  to  each  other.  But  perhaps 
the  air  was  chilly  after  coming  out  of  the 
heated  lecture  room  ;  for  they  all  poured  into 
the  parlour  to  get  warm,  before  going  up- 
stairs to  take  off  their  things. 

"  Well,  you  are  late,"  Mrs.  Englefield  said. 

"  Yes ;  but  we  had,  O  such  a  nice  meet- 
ing ! "  Maria  answered. 

«  What  was  it  all  about  ?  Now,  I  hope, 
we  shall  get  at  some  light  on  the  subject." 

But  the  light  was  not  in  a  hurry  to  come. 
Anne  and  Letitia  loosened  their  bonnet 
strings,  and  sat  down ;  Maria  and  Matilda 
threw  off  their  cloaks  and  hoods  and  sought 


86  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

the  fire ;  nobody  volunteered  to  be  spokesman 
for  the  party. 

"What  was  done,  Clarissa?"  her  mother 
asked. 

"  I  can  hardly  tell,  mamma.  A  sort  of  as- 
sociation formed,  for  doing  parish  work." 

"  I  do  not  think  much  of  associations,"  Mrs. 
Candy  said.  "  People  can  work  just  as  well 
in  private,  if  they  would  only  be  content 
Did  you,  join  this  association  ?  " 

"  What  is  parish  work,  Clarissa  ?  "  Matilda 
asked. 

"  Why,  work  in  the  parish,  of  course,"  Mrs. 
Englefield  answered. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  parish  is,  mam- 
ma?" 

"  Don't  you  ?  Well,  —  all  the  people  that 
Mr.  Richmond  has  the  care  of,  I  suppose; 
isn't  it,  sister  ?  " 

"But  who  has  he  the  care  of?"  Matil- 
da persisted,  looking  up  at  her  mother  ear- 
nestly. 

"Well,  child,"  said   Mrs.  Englefield   half 


1<WHAT  SHE   COULD."  87 

laughing,  "in  a  sort,  he  has  the  care  of  all 
the  people  he  preaches  to." 

"Does  he?"  said  Matilda.  But  at  that 
the  laugh  became  general. 

«  Why  not,  Tilly  ?  »  said  Mrs.  Candy. 

"  Who  gave  him  the  care  of  us  ?  "  said  Ma- 
tilda thoughtfully. 

"  A  minister  always  has  the  care  of  a 
church,  when  he  has  a  church,"  said  Mrs. 
Candy.  "  Is  this  Tilly's  way  of  going  into 
things  in  general,  Marianne  ?  " 

"  But?  said  Matilda,  —  "  can  anybody  take 
a  church  and  take  care  of  people,  if  he  has 
a  mind  ?  " 

"  No ;  only  a  man  who  has  been  properly 
educated  and  appointed." 

"  Then  how  comes  he  to  have  the  care  of 
us?" 

"  Come  here,  Tilly,"  said  Clarissa.  And 
she  began  a  whispered  explanation  to  which 
the  little  girl  listened  intently. 

"  I  do  not  hear  yet  what  was  the  business 
done  to-night  ?  "  Mrs.  Englefield  went  on. 


88  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

"  Why,  there  were  committees  formed," 
said  Letitia,  "  for  doing  every  sort  of  busi- 
ness under  heaven." 

"  Committees !  "  said  the  two  ladies  who 
had  staid  at  home. 

"  Maria  can  tell  you,"  said  Anne.  u  Maria, 
on  how  many  committees  are  you  ?  " 

Maria  hugged  the  fire  and  did  not  answer. 

"  On  how  many,  Maria  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  didn't  count." 

"  I  lost  count,  too,"  her  sister  said.  "  Let 
me  see.  Mamma,  Maria  has  undertaken  to 
find  and  bring  in  new  scholars  for  the 
school." 

"  I  hope  she  will  be  punctual  in  going 
herself,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Englefield.  "  She 
hasn't  been,  this  six  months  past,  to  my 
knowledge." 

"  O,  but  I  am  now,  mamma,"  said  Maria. 

4  She  has  undertaken  to  practise  for  the 
school  singing." 

"  I  didn't,"  said  Maria.  "  I  only  said  I 
would  help  in  it." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  89 

"  Your  help  will  not  be  worth  much  with- 
out practising.  She  has  promised  to  under- 
take temperance  work,  too.  How  she  will 
manage  it,  I  do  not  know;  unless  she  is  going 
to  begin  upon  us  here  at  home.  We  are 
all  such  hard  drinkers." 

"  Almost  all  the  Sunday  school  are  en- 
gaged to  help  in  temperance  work,"  said 
Maria,  standing  on  her  defence. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  do  anything  ? " 
her  mother  asked.  "  You  have  neither  broth- 
ers, nor  father,  nor  cousins,  in  danger,  that 
you  can  go  to  work  upon  them.  What  are 
you  going  to  do,  Maria  ?  " 

"  That  is  but  the  beginning,  mamma," 
Anne  went  on.  "  Maria  is  also  engaged  to 
visit  the  sick  and  afflicted  and  make  soup  and 
give  medicine  for  them." 

"  Why  I  did  not,  Anne ! "  Maria  ex- 
claimed again. 

"  What  did  you  mean,  then,  by  joining  the 
4  Aid  and  Comfort '  committee  ?  " 

"  I  did  not   say   I  would   make   soup,  or 


90  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

give  medicine.  Everybody  does  not  make 
soup." 

"  No  ;  and  so  I  thought  that  is  just  what 
the  '  Aid  and  Comfort '  committee  agreed  to 
do." 

"  And  the  doctors  give  the  medicine,"  said 
Matilda.  "  Clarissa  is  on  that  committee 
too." 

"  We  can  go  together ; "  said  Maria  ;  "  and 
we  can  find  something  to  do." 

"  Something  for  somebody  else  to  do,"  said 
Anne.  "  You  can  find  who  would  like  some 
soup,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  There  are  next  to  no  poor  people  in 
Shadywalk,"  said  Mrs.  Englefield.  «  I  don't 
believe  there  is  anybody  in  the  village 
who  would  like  some  soup  better  than  I 
should." 

"  There  are  several  doctors,"  said  Anne ; 
u  so  I  am  afraid  there  are  sick  people  oc- 
casionally. Else  the  doctors  will  soon  be  in 
want  of  soup.  But,  marnma,  that  is  not  the 
whole  of  Maria's  engagements.  She  has 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  91 

pledged  herself  to  '  carry  the  message,'  read 
the  Bible,  and  distribute  tracts." 

"  Don't  you  read  the  Bible  now,  Maria  ?  " 
her  mother  asked. 

«  O  yes,  mamma,"  said  Matilda.  "  This 
means  reading  the  Bible  to  somebody  who  is 
blind,  you  know,  or  sick  and  can't  read,  or 
who  doesn't  know  how." 

"  There  are  no  such  people  in  Shadywalk," 
said  Mrs.  Englefield  promptly. 

"  Shadywalk  is  a  happy  village  then,"  said 
her  sister. 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  find  time  for  all 
these  things,  Maria?  "  her  mother  continued. 
•'  Do  you  know  what  a  state  your  bureau 
drawers  are  in,  at  this  minute?  You  told 
me  you  had  been  too  busy  to  attend  to  them. 
And  the  frock  that  you  spilt  ink  on,  the 
week  before  last,  at  school,  you  have  not 
mended  ;  and  you  need  it ;  and  you  said  you 
could  not  get  a  minute." 

"  I  have  been  busy  about  something  else, 
mamma,"  Maria  said. 


92  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  That  braiding.  Yes.  But  there  is  al- 
ways 'something  else.'  There  are  other 
things  that  ought  to  begin  at  home,  besides 
charity.  Do  you  belong  to  this  association, 
Matilda  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma,"  came  in  a  low  voice  from 
the  child. 

«  Why  not  ?  " 

The  answer  was  not  ready. 

"  Have  you  joined  it,  Clarissa  ?  "  her  mo- 
ther asked. 

"  Yes,  mamma." 

"  And  what  have  you  pledged  yourself  to 
do?" 

'•  I  think  nothing,  mamma,  that  I  was  not 
properly  pledged  to  before." 

"  Such  as  what  ?  " 

"  I  gave  my  name  for  the  visiting  and  help- 
ing sick  and  poor  people ;  for  the  singing  in 
the  school ;  —  I  believe  that  is  all,  mamma." 

"  I  shall  not  let  you  go  where  there  is  sick- 
ness," said  Mrs  Candy.  "  When  did  you 
pledge  yourself  to  that  ever  ?  " 


"WHAT  SHE    COULD."  93 

"  When  I  took  the  vows  of  the  church, 
mamma,"  Clarissa  said  with  a  little  hesitation, 
"  I  suppose  I  engaged  to  do  some  of  these 
things." 

"  Some  of  them ;  I  have  no  objection  to 
your  singing  as  much  as  you  like ;  but  as  to 
your  going  where  there  are  fevers  and  bad 
air  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  I  should  not  be 
willing  at  all." 

"  There  will  not  be  much  occasion  for  it  in 
Shadywalk,"  said  Mrs.  Englefield.  «  We 
have  few  poor  people ;  there  are  not  many 
who  have  not  friends  of  their  own  to  take 
care  of  them." 

"  Anne  and  Letitia,  you  have  nothing  to 
do  with  all  this  ?  "  their  aunt  asked. 

"  I  have  enough  to  do  as  it  is,  Aunt 
Candy,"  said  Anne. 

"  And  I  don't  like  the  new  sorts  of  work, 
Aunt  Erminia,"  said  Letitia. 

"  I  know  you  wanted  to  stand  up  with  us 
this  evening,  though,"  said  Maria.  "  You  felt 
bad  oecause  you  didn't." 


94  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

This  remark  threatened  to  disturb  the  har- 
mony of  the  party ;  so  Mrs.  Englefield  broke 
it  up  and  sent  everybody  to  bed. 

"  How  do  you  like  our  Mr.  Richmond, 
Clarissa  ?  "  she  asked,  as  they  were  separat- 
ing. 

"  I  don't  know,  Aunt  Marianne ;  it  struck 
me  he  was  something  of  an  enthusiast." 

«That  is  just  what  I  think,"  said  Mrs. 
Englefield. 

"  Those  people  are  dangerous,  Marianne," 
said  Mrs.  Candy. 


CHAPTER    V. 

rtlHE  next  day  but  one,  in  the  afternoon,  a 
little  figure  set  out  from  Mrs.  Engle- 
field's  gate  on  a  solitary  expedition.  She  had 
left  her  sisters  and  cousin  in  high  debate, 
over  the  various  probabilities  of  pleasure  at- 
tainable through  the  means  of  twenty  five 
dollars.  Matilda  listened  gravely  for  a  while  ; 
then  left  them,  put  on  her  hood  and  cloak 
and  went  out  alone.  It  was  rather  late  in 
the  short  winter  afternoon  ;  the  slanting  sun- 
beams made  a  gleam  of  cheer,  though  it  was 
cold  cheer  too,  upon  the  snowy  streets.  They 
stretched  away,  the  white  streets,  heaped  with 
banks  of  snow  where  the  gutters  should  be, 
overhung  with  brown  branches  of  trees,  where 
in  summer  the  leafy  canopy  made  a  pleasant 
shade  all  along  the  way.  No  shade  was 


g6  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

wanted  now ;  the  air  was  growing  more  keen 
already  since  the  sun  had  got  so  far  down 
in  the  west.  Tilly  turned  the  corner,  where 
by  Mr.  Forshew's  hardware  shop  there  was 
often  a  country  wagon  standing,  and  always 
a  knot  of  loitering  men  and  boys  gathering 
or  retailing  the  news,  if  there  was  any ; 
when  there  was  none,  seeking  a  poorer 
amusement  still  in  stories  and  jests,  mingled 
with  profanity  and  tobacco.  Tilly  was  al- 
ways glad  to  have  passed  the  corner ;  not 
that  there  was  the  least  danger  of  incivility 
from  any  one  lingering  there,  but  she  did  not 
like  the  neighbourhood  of  such  people.  She 
turned  up  towards  the  church,  which  stood 
in  one  of  the  principal  streets  of  the  village. 
Matilda  herself  lived  in  the  other  principal 
street.  The  two  were  at  right  angles  to  each 
other,  each  extending  perhaps  half  a  mile, 
with  comfortable  houses  standing  along  the 
way;  about  the  "  corner"  they  stood  close  to- 
gether, for  that  was  the  business  quarter  and 
there  were  the  stores.  Passing  the  stores  and 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  97 

shops,  there  came  next  a  succession  of  dwell- 
ing houses,  some  of  more  and  some  of  less 
pretension  ;  in  general  it  was  less.  The  new 
houses  of  the  successful  tradesmen  were  for 
the  most  part  in  the  street  where  Matilda's 
mother  lived.  These  were  many  of  them  old 
and  low ;  some  were  poor.  Here  there  was 
a  doctor's  shop  ;  there  a  heap  of  dingy  sheep 
skins  and  brown  calf  hides  cast  down  at  a 
door,  told  of  the  leather  store ;  here  and  there 
hung  out  a  milliner's  sign.  A  few  steps 
further  on  the  other  side  of  the  way,  a  great 
brick  factory  stood;  Matilda  had  no  very 
distinct  notion  of  what  wares  it  turned  out, 
but  the  children  believed  they  were  iron  works 
of  some  sort.  A  cross  street  here  led  to  side 
ways  which  extended  parallel  with  the  main 
thoroughfare,  one  on"  the  north  and  one  on  the 
south  of  it,  and  which  though  more  scatter- 
ingly  built  up,  were  yet  a  considerable  en- 
largement of  the  village.  A  little  further  on, 
and  Matilda  had  reached  the  church ;  in  her 
language  the  church,  though  only  one  of 
7 


98  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

several  in  which  the  villagers  delighted.  A 
great  creamy-brown  edifice,  of  no  particular 
style  of  architecture,  with  a  broad  porch  up- 
held by  a  row  of  big  pillars,  and  a  little  square 
tower  where  hung  a  bell,  declared  to  be  the 
sweetest  and  clearest  of  all  in  the  neighbour- 
hood. So,  many  thought,  were  the  utter- 
ances inside  the  church.  Just  beyond,  Matilda 
could  see  the  lecture  room,  with  its  tran- 
septs, and  its  pretty  hood  over  the  door,  for 
all  which  and  sundry  other  particulars  con- 
cerning it  she  had  a  private  favour ;  but 
Matilda  did  not  go  so  far  this  afternoon. 
Short  of  the  lecture  room,  a  gate  in  the  fence 
of  the  church  grounds  stood  open  ;  a  large 
gate,  through  which  wagons  and  carriages 
sometimes  passed ;  Matilda  turned  in  there, 
and  picked  her  way  over  the  ridgy  snow 
down  the  lane  that  led  to  the  parsonage. 

The  parsonage  sat  thus  quietly  back  from 
the  sights  and  noises  of  the  street;  a  little 
brown  house,  it  looked,  half  hidden  in  sum- 
mer by  the  sweeping  foliage  of  the  elms  that 


"WHAT  SHE    COULD"  99 

overarched  the  little  lane  ;  half  sheltered  now 
in  winter  by  a  goodly  pine  tree  that  stood  in 
the  centre  of  the  little  plot  of  grass  round 
which  swept  the  road  to  the  front  door. 
Wheels  or  runners  had  been  there,  for  the 
road  was  tracked  with  them ;  but  not  many, 
for  the  villagers  needed  no  such  help  to  get 
to  the  minister,  and  there  were  few  of  the 
church  people  who  lived  at  a  distance  and 
could  leave  their  work  and  take  their  teams 
on  a  week  day  to  come  a-pleasuring ;  and 
still  fewer  who  were  rich  enough  to  do  as 
they  liked  at  all  times.  There  were  some ; 
bu.t  Matilda  ran  little  risk  of  meeting  them  ; 
and  so  mounted  the  parsonage  steps  and 
lifted  the  knocker  with  no  more  than  her 
own  private  reasons  for  hesitation,  whatever 
those  might  be.  She  knocked,  however,  and 
steps  carne  within  and  Miss  Redwood  opened 
the  door. 

"  Well !  "  she  said,  "  here's  the  first  one  this 
blessed  afternoon.  I  thought  I  was  going  to 
get  along  for  once  without  any  one ;  but  such 


100  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

luck  don't  come  to  me.  Wipe  the  snow  off, 
dear,  will  you,  clean ;  for  my  hall's  as  nice  as 
—  well,  I  don't  know  what ;  as  nice  as  it  had 
ought  to  be.  That  will  do.  Now  come  in, 
for  the  air's  growin'  right  sharp.  What  is  it, 
my  dear  ?  " 

"Is  Mr.  Richmond  at  home?"  Matilda 
asked. 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  he  is.  I  hain't  hearn  him 
nor  seen  him  go  out  since  noon.  Do  ye 
want  to  see  him,  or  is  it  a  message? — ye 
want  to  see  him,  eh.  Well,  I  s'pose  he'll  see 
you  —  if  he  ain't  too  busy  —  and  I  don't 
know  when  he  gets  time  for  all  he  has  to  do, 
but  he  gets  it;  so  I  s'pose  I  had  ought  to  be 
satisfied.  /  don't,  I  know ;  but  I  s'pose  men 
and  women  is  different.  Some  folks  would 
say  that's  a  reason  why  men  was  created  the 
first  and  the  best ;  but  I  don't  think  so  myself. 
And  here  I  am  an  old  goose,  a-talkin'  to  little 
Tilly  Englefield  about  philosophy,  instead  o' 
lettin'  her  into  the  minister's  room.  Well, 
come  in,  dear ;  round  this  way ;  the  minister 


«  WHA  T  SHE   COULD?  I O I 

nas  taken  a  notion  to  keep  that  door  shut  up 
because  of  the  cold." 

Miss  Redwood  had  not  been  idle  during  the 
utterance  of  this  speech.  First  she  had  been 
shaking  the  snow  from  the  door  mat  on  which 
Matilda's  feet  had  left  it ;  then  she  seized  a 
broom  and  brushed  the  white  masses  from  the 
hall  carpet  out  to  the  piazza  and  even  off  the 
painted  boards  of  that.  Finally  came  in,  shut 
the  door,  and  led  Matilda  to  the  back  of  the 
hall,  where  it  turned,  and  two  doors,  indeed 
three,  confronted  each  other  across  a  yard  of 
intervening  space.  The  housekeeper  knocked 
at  the  one  which  led  into  the  front  room ;  then 
set  it  open  for  Matilda  to  go  in,  and  closed  it 
after  her. 

A  pleasant  room  that  was,  though  nothing 
in  the  world  could  be  more  unadorned.  Deal 
shelves  all  around  were  filled  with  books ;  a 
table  or  two  were  piled  with  them ;  one, 
before  the  fire,  was  filled  as  well  with  papers 
and  writing  materials.  This  fronted,  how- 
ever, a  real  blazing  fire,  the  very  thing  Miss 


102  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

Redwood  had  once  been  so  uneasy  about ; 
in  a  wide 'open  chimney  place,  where  two 
great  old-fashioned  brass  andirons  with  round 
heads  held  a  generous  load  of  oak  and  hickory 
sticks,  softly  snapping  and  blazing.  The 
sweet  smell  of  the  place  struck  Matilda's 
sense,  almost  before  she  saw  the  minister.  It 
was  a  pure,  quiet,  scented  atmosphere  that 
the  room  held;  where  comfort  and  study 
seemed  to  lurk  in  the  very  folds  of  the  chintz 
window  curtains,  and  to  shine  in  the  firelight, 
and  certainly  seemed  to  fill  Mr.  Richmond's 
arm-chair  even  when  he  was  not  in  it.  He 
rose  out  of  it  now  to  meet  his  little  visiter  and 
laid  study  on  the  table.  Of  one  sort. 

"All's  well  at  home,.  Tilly  ?"  he  asked  as 
he  put  her  into  his  own  chair. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  do  not  come  to  me  with  any 
message,  but  to  see  me  yourself?" 

«  Yes,  sir." 

"  That's  nice.  Now  while  you  are  talking 
to  me,  I  will  roast  you  an  apple." 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD:'         103 

Matilda  looked  on  with  great  curiosity  and 
as  great  a  sense  of  relief,  while  Mr.  Richmond 
took  out  of  a  cupboard  a  plate  of  apples, 
chose  a  fine  one  with  a  good  bit  of  stem,  tied 
a  long  pack-thread  to  this,  and  then  hung  the 
apple  by  a  loop  at  the  other  end  of  the  string, 
to  a  hook  in  the  woodwork  over  the  fireplace. 
The  apple,  suspended  in  front  of  the  blazing 
fire,  began  a  succession  of  swift  revolutions; 
first  in  one  direction  and  then  in  the  other,  as 
the  string  twisted  or  untwisted. 

"  Did  you  ever  roast  an  apple  so  ?  " 

"  No,  Mr. -Richmond." 

"  It  is  the  best  way  in  the  world  —  when 
you  haven't  got  any  other." 

"  We  haven't  got  that  way  at  our  house," 
said  Matilda ;  "  for  we  have  no  fires  ;  nothing 
but  stoves." 

"  You  speak  as  if  you  thought  fires  were 
the  best  plan  of  the  two." 

"  O,  I  do,  Mr.  Richmond !  I  do  not  like 
stoves  at  all.  They're  so  close." 

"  I    always    thought    stoves    were    rather 


104  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

close,"  said  Mr.  Richmond.  "  Now  what  did 
you  come  to  see  me  roast  apples  for,  this 
afternoon  ?  Did  you  come  to  keep  your 
promise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Matilda  answered  rather  faintly 

"  Are  you  sorry  you  made  the  promise  ?  " 
Mr.  Richmond  inquired,  looking  at  her. 
But  the  look  was  so  pleasant,  that  Matilda's 
could  not  keep  its  solemnity.  She  had  come 
in  with  a  good  deal. 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  was  soiry,"  she  said. 

"  And  you  are  not  sorry  now  ?  " 

« I  think  not." 

«  That  is  all  the  better.  Now  what  did  you 
want  to  say  to  me,  Matilda  ?  " 

"  You  know  you  made  me  say  I  would 
come,  Mr.  Richmond." 

"Did  I?  I  think  not.  I  do  not  think  I 
made  you  say  anything  —  do  you  think  I 
did?" 

"  Well,  you  asked  me,  Mr.  Richmond." 

«  Just  what  did  I  ask  you  ?  " 

"  You  asked  rne  if  I  would  come  and  tell 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  105 

you  —  you  said  you  wished  I  would  come  and 
tell  you  —  if"  — 

And  Matilda  made  a  great  pause.  The 
eyes  of  her  friend  seemed  only  to  be  watching 
the  apple,  yet  perhaps  they  knew  that  her 
little  lips  were  unsteady  and  were  trying  to 
get  steady.  He  left  his  seat  to  attend  to  the 
roast;  got  a  plate  and  put  on  the  hearth 
under  it ;  arranged  the  fire ;  then  came  and 
with  his  own  hands  removed  Matilda's  hood 
and  loosened  and  threw  back  her  cloak ;  and 
while  he  did  this  he  repeated  his  question,  in 
tones  that  were  encouragement  itself. 

"  I  wished  you  would  come  and  tell  me  if 
—  if  what?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Richmond,  —  if  I  thought  I 
could  not  do  something  that  I  thought — I 
ought." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  that  was  it,  Tilly.  Now,  to 
begin  with  one  thing  at  a  time,  what  do  you 
think  you  '  ought '  to  do  ?  " 

"  Last  night,  I  mean,  Mr.  Richmond ;  I 
mean,  the  night  before  last,  at  the  meeting." 


106  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

«  I  know.  Well,  what  did  you  think  then 
you  ought  to  do  ?  " 

«  Mr.  Richmond,  I  think,  I  thought  that  I 
ought  to  rise  up,  when  Maria  and  the  others 
did." 

"  I  knew  you  thought  so.  Why  did  you 
not,  then,  Matilda  ?  " 

«  I  couldn't." 

"  Do  you  know  why  you  could  not  ?  " 

Again  there  was  difficulty  of  speech  on  the 
child's  part.  Mr.  Richmond's  saying  that  "  he 
knew  "  she  had  had  such  feelings,  was  an  en- 
dorsement to  her  conscience ;  and  Matilda 
could  not  immediately  get  over  a  certain 
swelling  in  her  throat,  which  threatened  to 
put  a  stop  to  the  conversation.  The  minister 
waited,  and  she  struggled. 

"  Why  could  you  not  do  what  the  others 
did,  Matilda?" 

"  Mr.  Richmond  —  I  didn't  want  to  do  the 
things." 

"  What  things  ?  Bringing  new  scholars  to 
the  Sunday  school,  for  instance  ?  " 


"  WHAT  SHE   COULD."  107 

"  O  no,  sir,  I  wouldn't  mind  doing  that,  or 
some  other  things  either.  Bat "  — 

"  You  mean,  you  do  not  want  to  pledge 
yourself  to  be  a  servant  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ?" 

"  NO,  sir ; "  —  after  a  pause,  and  low. 

"Well,  Tilly,"  said  the  minister,  "I  can 
only  be  very  sorry  for  you.  You  keep  your- 
self out  of  a  great  joy." 

"  But,  Mr.  Richmond,"  said  Matilda,  down 
whose  cheeks  quiet  tears  were  now  running, 
one  after  another,  "don't  you  think  I  am  very 
young  yet  to  be  a  member  of  the  church  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  Jesus  died  for  you,  Tilly  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  believe  he  loves  you  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  understand  all  about  that.  Does  He 
want  you  to  be  his  obedient  child  and  dear 
servant?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Richmond." 

"  You  know  all  about  that,  too.  Can  you 
think  of  any  reason  why  you  should  for  an- 


108  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

other  year  refuse  to  love  him,  refuse  to  mind 
him,  and  do  all  that  your  example  and  influ- 
ence can  do  to  keep  others  from  loving  and 
minding  him?  When  He  so  loves  and  has 
loved  you." 

Tilly's  little  hands  went  up  to  her  face 
now,  and  the  room  was  very  still;  only  the 
flames  softly  flickering  in  the  fireplace,  and 
the  apple  sputtering  before  the  fire.  Mr. 
Richmond  did  not  say  a  word  for  several 
minutes. 

"  Mr.  Richmond,"  said  Matilda  at  last,  "  do 
you  think  anybody  cares  what  I  do  ?  —  when 
I  am  so  little  ?  " 

"I  think  the  Lord  Jesus  cares.  He  said 
nobody  was  to  hinder  the  little  children  from 
coming  to  him.  And  I  would  rather  be  in 
his  arms  and  have  him  bless  me,  if  I  were 
you,  than  be  anywhere  else,  or  have  anything 
else.  And  so  would  you,  Tilly." 

"But,  Mr.  Richmond — it  is  because  I  am 
not  good." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it.     But  that  is  a  reason  for 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  109 

giving  yourself  to  the  Lord  Jesus.  He  will 
make  you  good ;  and  there  is  no  other  way." 

But  Tilly's  trouble  at  this  got  beyond  man- 
agement. She  left  her  seat  and  came  to  Mr. 
Richmond,  letting  his  arm  draw  her  up  to 
him,  and  dropping  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

"O  Mr.  Richmond,"  she  said,  —  "I  don't 
know  how ! " 

"  Don't  know  how  to  give  yourself  to  Je- 
sus ?  Do  it  in  your  heart,  Tilly.  He  is 
there.  Tell  him  he  may  have  you  for  his 
own  child.  He  is  at  the  door  of  your  heart 
knocking;  open  the  door  and  bid  him  come 
in.  He  will  make  it  a  glad  place  if  you 
do." 

"  Mr.  Richmond,"  said  the  child  with  great 
difficulty  between  her  sobs,  —  "won't  you  tell 
him  that  I  will  ?  " 

They  kneeled  down  and  the  minister  madt 
a  short  prayer.  But  then  he  said,  — 

"  Now,  Tilly,  I  want  you  to  teU  the  Lord 
yourself." 

«  T  can't,  Mr.  Richmond  " 


110  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

"  I  think  you  can.  And  I  want  you  tc 
try." 

They  waited  and  waited.  Tilly  sobbed 
softly,  but  the  minister  waited  still.  At  last 
Tilly's  tears  ceased ;  then  with  her  little 
hands  spread  before  her  face,  she  said  very 
slowly,  — 

"  O  Lord,  I  am  a  naughty  child.  I  want  to 
be  good.  I  will  do  everything  that  you  tell 
me.  Please  take  my  heart  and  make  it  all 
new,  and  help  me  to  be  strong  and  do  right. 
Amen." 

They  rose  up,  but  Mr.  Richmond  kept  the 
child  within  his  arm,  where  she  had  been 
standing. 

"  Now,  Tilly,  how  do  we  know  that  our 
prayers  are  heard  ?  " 

"  God  has  promised,  hasn't  he,  Mr.  Rich- 
mond?" 

"  Where  ?  in  what  words  ?  " 

Tilly  hesitated,  and  then  repeated  part  of 
the  verse,  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you 
Seek,  and  ye  shall  find." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  in 

*  And  look  here,"  said  Mr.  Richmond,  half 
turning,  so  as  to  bring  her  and  himself  within 
reach  of  the  Bible  that  lay  at  his  elbow  on 
the  table,  —  "  see  here,  Matilda.  Read  these 
words." 

"  '  If  ye  shall  ask  anything  in  my  name,  I 
will  do  it."' 

«  And  here,"— 

" '  Whatsover  ye  shall  ask  the  Father  in  my 
name,  he  will  give  it  you.'  " 

"  Does  Jesus  ever  break  his  promises?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Richmond  ;  he  can't." 

"  Then  remember  that,  whenever  you  think 
of  to-day,  and  whenever  you  feel  troubled  or 
weak.  You  are  weak,  but  he  is  strong; 
and  he  cannot  break  his  promises.  So 
you  and  I  are  safe,  as  long  as  we  hold  to 
him." 

There  was  silence  a  little  while,  and  Mr. 
Richmond  set  the  apple  to  twirling  again. 
It  had  untwisted  its  string  and  was  hanging 
still. 

"  I  am  to   put  your   name   now,   I   sup- 


112  "  WHA  T  SHE  COULD.' 

pose,  Tilly,  among  the  names  of  our  Band  J 
ami?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Richmond." 

"What  work  would  you  like  specially  to 
do?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  Mr.  Richmond ;  I  will 
think." 

<rVery  well;  that  is  right.  And  there  is 
another  place  where  your  name  ought  to  go 
—  is  there  not  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir." 

"  Yes  —  among  those  who  desire  to  be 
members  of  the  church  —  to  tell  the  world 
they  are  Christ's  people." 

"  O  no,  Mr.  Richmond ! " 

"  Why  «  O  no,  Mr.  Richmond '  ?  " 

"I  am  not  good  enough.  I  want  to  be 
better  first." 

"  How  do  you  expect  to  get  better  ?  " 

Silence. 

"  I  suppose  your  thought  is,  that  Jesus  will 
make  your  heart  new,  as  you  asked  him  just 
now,  and  help  you  to  be  strong.  Is  that  it  ? 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  113 

—  Yes.  And  you  do  not  expect  to  accom- 
plish the  change  or  grow  strong  by  your  own 
power  ?  " 

«  O  no,  sir." 

"  Don't  you  think  Jesus  loves  you  now  as 
Well  as  he  will  by  and  by,  and  is  as  ready  1o 
nelp  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Richmond." 

"  Then,  Tilly,  I  call  it  just  distrust  of  him, 
to  hold  off  from  what  he  commands  you  to 
do,  for  fear  he  will  not  help  you  to  do  it.  I 
would  be  ashamed  to  offer  such  an  excuse  to 
him." 

"But — has  he  commanded  that,  Mr.  Rich- 
mond?" 

"  He  has  commanded  us  to  confess  openly 
that  we  are  his  servants,  hasn't  he?  and  to 
be  baptized  in  token  of  the  change  he  has 
wrought  in  us,  and  as  a  sign  that  we  belong 
to  him?  How  can  we  do  either  the  one  or 
the  other  without  joining  the  church  ?  " 

'  I  thought"  —  Matilda  began,  but  seeming- 
ly did  not  like  to  tell  what  she  had  thought. 


114  "WHAT  SHE  COULD. 

"Let  us  have  it,  Tilly,"  said  her  friend, 
drawing  her  closer  to  him.  "  You  and  I  are 
talking  confidentially,  and  it  is  best  in  those 
cases  to  talk  all  out.  So  what  did  you 
think?" 

"  I  thought  there  were  people  who  were  the 
servants  of  Christ,  and  yet  did  not  join  any 
church,"  Matilda  said  softly. 

"  By  not  doing  it,  they  as  good  as  say  to 
the  world  that  they  are  not  his  servants. 
And  the  world  judges  accordingly.  I  have 
known  people  under  such  a  delusion ;  but 
when  they  were  honest,  I  have  always 
known  them  to  come  out  of  it.  If  you  give 
all  you  have  to  the  Lord  Jesus,  you  must 
certainly  give  your  influence." 

"But,  I  thought  I  might  wait"—  Tilly 
said  again. 

"Till  when?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  whispered. 

"Wait  for  what?" 

"  Till  T  was  more  like  what  —  I  ought  to 
be,  Mr.  Richmond." 


«  WHA  T  SHE   CO  ULD."  1 1 5 

**  Till  you  were  more  like  the  Lord  Jesus  ?  " 

«  Yes,  sir." 

"Do  you  not  think  the  quickest  way  to 
grow  like  him  would  be  to  do  and  obey 
every  word  he  says  ?  " 

Matilda  bowed  her  head  a  little. 

"  You  will  be  more  likely  to  grow  good 
and  strong  that  way  than  any  other ;  and  I 
am  sure  the  Lord  will  be  more  likely  to  help 
you  if  you  trust  him,  than  if  you  do  not 
trust  him." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  Matilda  assented. 

"  Then  we  will  do  everything,  shall  we, 
that  we  think  our  Lord  would  like  to  have  us 
do  ?  and  we  will  trust  him  to  help  us  through 
with  it  ? "  Mr.  Richmond  said,  with  an 
affectionate  look  at  the  child  beside  him ; 
and  Matilda  met  the  look  and  answered  it 
with  another. 

"But,  Mr.  Richmond"  — 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  There  is  one  question  I  should  like  to 
ask." 


Il6  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

«  Ask  it." 

"  Why  ought  people  to  be  baptized  ?  " 

Because  our  Lord  commands  it.      Isn't 
that  a  good  reason  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  but — what  does  it  mean,  Mr. 
Richmond  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  way  of  saying  to  the  world,  that 
we  have  left  it,  and  belong  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  It  is  a  way  of  saying  to  the 
world,  that  his  blood  has  washed  away  our 
sins  and  his  Spirit  has  made  our  hearts  clean  ; 
or  that  we  trust  him  to  do  both  things  for  us. 
And  it  is  the  appointed  way  of  saying  all 
this  to  the  world ;  his  appointed  way.  Do 
you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Now  do  you  not  think  that  those  who 
love  the  Lord  Jesus,  ought  to  be  glad  to 
follow  his  will  in  this  matter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Matilda  said  again,  raising  hei 
eyes  frankly  to  Mr.  Richmond's  face. 

"  "Would  you  be  willing  to  be  left  out, 
when  next  I  baptize  some  of  those  who  wish 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  II'J 

to  make  it  publicly  known  that  they  are 
Christ's?" 

"  No,  sir."  And  presently  she  added. 
"  When  will  that  be,  Mr.  Richmond  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  answered  thought- 
iully.  "  Not  immediately.  You  and  I  must 
have  some  more  talks  before  that  time." 

"  You  are  very  good  to  me,  Mr.  Rich- 
mond," Matilda  said  gratefully. 

"  Have  we  said  all  we  ought  to  say  this 
time  ?  Are  there  any  more  questions  to 
bring  up  ?  " 

"I  haven't  any  to  bring  up,"  Matilda 
said. 

"  Is  all  clear,  that  we  have  been  talking 
about?" 

"  I  think  so." 

"  Now  will  you  be  good  to  me,  and  stay 
and  take  supper  with  me?  That  knock  at 
the  door  means  that  Miss  Redwood  would 
like  to  have  me  know  that  supper  is  ready. 
And  you  shall  have  this  apple  we  have  been 
roasting." 


Il8  •'  WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

"  Mr.  Richmond,  I  think  mamma  would  b*» 
frightened  if  I  did  not  go  home." 

"  She  does  not  know  where  you  are  ?  " 

"  Nobody  knows,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Then  it  won't  do  to  let  you  stay.  You 
shall  come  another  time,  and  we  will  roast 
another  apple,  —  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  come,"  said  Matilda. 
"  Mr.  Richmond,  —  didn't  you  say  you  were 
going  to  talk  to  the  Band  and  explain  things, 
when  we  have  our  meetings  ?  " 

"  I  did  say  so.  What  do  you  want  ex- 
plained?" 

"  Some  time,  —  I  would  like  to  know  just 
all  it  means,  to  be  a  servant  of  Christ." 

"  All  it  means,"  said  Mr.  Richmond. 
"  Well,  it  means  a  good  deal,  Tilly.  I  think 
we  had  better  begin  there  with  our  explana- 
tions. I  shall  not  make  it  a  lecture ;  it  will 
be  more  like  a  class ;  so  you  may  ask  as 
many  questions  as  you  please." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

rt^HE  light  of  day  was  darkening  fast,  as 
Matilda  ran  home.  Even  the  western 
sky  gave  no  glow,  when  she  reached  her 
own  gate  and  went -in.  After  all,  she  had 
run  but  a  very  little  way,  in  her  first  hurry ; 
the  rest  of  the  walk  was  taken  with  sober 
steps. 

When  she  came  downstairs,  she  found 
the  lamp  lit  and  all  the  young  heads  of  the 
family  clustering  together  to  look  at  some- 
thing. It  was  Anne's  purchase,  she  found; 
Anne  had  spent  her  aunt's  gift  in  the  pur- 
chase of  a  new  silk  dress ;  and  she  was  dis- 
playing it. 

"  It  is  a  lovely  colour,"  said  Maria.  "  I 
think  that  shade  of  —  what  do  you  call  it?  — 
is  just  the  prettiest  in  the  world.  What  do 


120  "IVHAT  SHE   COULD." 

you  call  it,  Clarissa  ?  and  where  did  you 
get  it,  Anne  ?  " 

"  It  is  pearl  gray,"  said  Clarissa. 

"  I  would  have  got  blue,  while  I  was  about 
it,"  said  Letitia  ;  "  there  is  nothing  like  blue  ; 
and  it  becomes  you,  Anne.  You  ought  to 
have  got  blue.  I  would  have  had  one  dress 
that  suited  me,  if  I  was  you,  if  I  never  had 
another." 

"This  will  suit  me,  I  think,"  said 
Anne. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  trim  it  with  any- 
thing?  Dresses  are  so  much  trimmed  now 
a-days ;  and  this  colour  will  not  be  anything 
unless  you  trim  it." 

Anne  replied  by  producing  the  trimming. 
The  exclamations  of  delight  and  approval 
lasted  for  several  minutes. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  get,  Letitia  ? " 
Maria  asked. 

"  I  have  not  decided." 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  will  have  a  watch," 
said  Maria.  "  You  can  get  a  very  good 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  121 

silver  watch,  a  really  good  one,  you  know 
for  twenty-five  dollars." 

"  But  a  silver  watch  ! "  said  Anne.  "  I 
would  not  wear  anything  but  a  gold  watch." 

"  How  am  I  going  to  get  a  gold  watch,  1 
should  like  to  know  ?  "  said  Maria.  "  I  think 
it  would  be  splendid." 

"  But  what  do  you  want  of  a  watch, 
Maria  ?  "  her  little  sister  asked. 

"  O,  here  is  Matilda  coming  out !  Just 
like  her !  Not  a  word  about  Anne's  dress ; 
and  now  she  says,  what  do  I  want  with  a 
watch.  Why,  what  other  people  want  with 
one  ;  I  want  to  see  the  time  of  day." 

"  I  don't  think  you  do,"  said  Matilda. 
«  When  do  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  should  like  to  know  in  school, 
when  it  is  recess  time ;  and  at  home,  when  it 
is  time  to  go  to  school." 

"  But  the  bell  rings,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Well,  I  don't  always  hear  the  bell,  child." 

"  But  when  you  don't  hear  it,  I  tell  you." 

"  Yes,  and  it's  very  tiresome  to   have  you 


122  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

telling  me,  too.  I'd  rather  have  my  own 
watch.  But  I  don't  know  what  I  will  have  ; 
sometimes  I  think  I'll  just  buy  summer 
dresses,  and  then  for  once  I'd  have  a  plenty. 
I  do  like  to  have  plenty  of  anything.  And 
there's  a  necklace  and  earrings  at  Mr.  Kurtz's 
that  I  want.  Such  lovely  earrings ! " 

«  Well,  Matilda,  what  are  you  thinking  of?  " 
Letitia  burst  forth.  "Such  a  face!  One 
would  think  it  was  wicked  to  wear  earrings. 
What  is  it,  you  queer  child  ?  " 

But  Matilda  did  not  say  what  she  was 
thinking  of.  The  elder  ladies  came  in,  and 
the  party  adjourned  to  the  tea-table. 

A  few  hours  later,  when  the  girls  had  gone 
to  their  room,  Matilda  asked,  — 

"  When  are  you  going  to  look  for  new 
scholars,  Maria  ?  " 

"  What  ? "  was  Maria's  energetic  and  not 
very  graceful  response. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  look  for  some  new 
scholars  to  bring  to  the  school  ?  " 

"The    Sunday  school!"    said   Maria.     "I 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  123 

thought  you  meant  the  school  where  we  go 
every  day.  I  don't  know." 

"  You  promised  you  would  try." 

"  Well,  so  I  will,  when  I  see  any  1  can 
bring." 

"  But  don't  you  think  you  ought  to  go  and 
look  for  them  ?  " 

"  How  can  I,  Tilly  ?  I  don't  know  where 
to  go ;  and  I  haven't  got  time,  besides." 

"  I  think  I  know  where  we  could  go,"'said 
Matilda,  "  and  maybe  we  could  get  one,  at 
any  rate.  Don't  you  know  the  Dows'  house  ? 
on  the  turnpike  road? — beyond  the  bridge 
ever  so  far  ?  " 

"  The  Dows' !  "  said  Maria.  «  Yes,  I  know 
the  Dows'  house ;  but  who's  there  ?  Nothing 
but  old  folks." 

"  Yes,  there  are  two  children ;  I  have  seen 
them ;  two  or  three ;  but  they  don't  come  to 
school." 

"  Then  I  don't  believe  they  want  to,"  said 
Maria ;  "  they  could  come  if  they  wanted  to,  I 
am  sure." 


124  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

"  Don't  you  think  we  might  go  and  ask 
them  ?  Perhaps  they  would  come  if  anybody 
asked  them." 

"  Yes,  we  might,"  said  Maria ;  "  but,  you 
see,  Tilly,  I  haven't  any  time.  It'll  take  me 
every  bit  of  time  I  can  get  between  now  and 
Sunday  to  finish  putting  the  braid  on  that 
frock ;  you  have  no  idea  how  much  time  it 
takes.  It  curls  round  this  way,  and  then  twists 
over*  that  way,  and  then  gives  two  curls,  so, 
and  so ;  and  it  takes  a  great  while  to  do  it.  I 
almost  wish  I  had  chosen  an  easier  pattern ; 
only  this  is  so  pretty." 

"  But  you  promised,  Maria." 

"  I  didn't  promise  to  go  and  look  up  people, 
child.  I  only  promised  to  do  what  I  could. 
Besides,  what  have  you  got  to  do  with  it  ? 
You  did  not  promise  at  all." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,  if  you  will  go  up  to 
the  Dows',"  said  Matilda. 

"  O,  well !  —  don't  worry,  and  I'll  see  about 
it." 

"  But  will  you  go  ?    Come,  Maria,  let  us  go." 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  125 

«  When  ?  " 

"  Any  afternoon.     To-morrow." 

"  What  makes  you  want  to  go  ? "  said 
Maria  looking  at  her. 

"I  think  you  ought  to  go,"  Matilda  answered 
demurely. 

"  And  I  say,  what  have  you  got  to  do  with 
it  ?  I  don't  see  what  particular  concern  of 
mine  the  Dows'  are,  anyhow." 

Matilda  sat  a  long  while  thinking  after  this 
speech.  She  was  on  the  floor,  pulling  off  her 
stockings  and  unlacing  her  boots ;  and  while 
her  fingers  moved  slowly,  drawing  out  the 
laces,  her  cogitations  were  very  busy.  What 
concern  ivere  the  Dows',  of  hers  or  Maria's  ? 
They  were  not  pleasant  people  to  go  near, 
she  judged,  from  the  look  of  their  house  and 
dooryard  as  she  had  seen  it  in  passing ;  and 
the  uncombed,  fly-away  head  of  the  little  girl 
gave  her  a  shudder  as  she  remembered  it. 
They  were  not  people  that  were  often  seen  in 
church  ;  they  could  not  be  good ;  maybe  they 
used  bad  language ;  certainly  they  could  not 


126  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

be  expected  to  know  how  to  "  behave."  Slowly 
the  laces  were  pulled  out  of  Matilda's  boots, 
and  her  face  grew  into  portentous  gravity. 

"  Aren't  you  coming  to  bed  ?  "  said  Maria. 
«  What  can  you  be  thinking  of?  " 

"I  am  thinking  of  the  Dows' ? " 

"  What  about  them  ?  I  never  thought 
about  them  three  times  in  my  life." 

"  But  oughtn't  we  to  think  about  people, 
Maria  ?  " 

"  Nice  people." 

"  I  mean,  people  that  are  not  nice." 

"  It  will  be  new  times  when  you  do,"  said 
Maria.  "  Come !  let  the  Dows'  alone  and 
come  to  bed." 

"  Maria,"  said  her  little  sister  as  she  obeyed 
this  request,  "  I  was  thinking,  that  Jesus 
thought  about  people  that  were  not  nice." 

"Well?"  said  Maria.  "Do  lie  down! 
what  is  the  use  of  getting  into  bed,  if  you 
are  going  to  sit  bolt  upright  like  that  and  talk 
lectures  ?  I  don't  see  what  has  got  into  you." 

"  Maria,  it  seems  to  me,  now  I  think  of  it, 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  127 

that  those  were  the  particular  people  he  did 
care  about." 

"Don't  you  think  he  cared  about  good 
people  ?  "  said  Maria  indignantly. 

"  But  they  were  not  good  at  first.  Nobody 
was  good  at  first  —  till  he  made  them  good. 
He  said  he  didn't  come  to  the  good  people ; 
don't  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Well,  what  do  you  mean  by  all  that  ? 
Are  we  not  to  care  for  anybody  but  the  people 
that  are  not  good?  A  nice  life  we  should 
have  of  it !  " 

"  Maria,"  said  her  little  sister  very  thought- 
fully, «  I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  life  He  had  ?  " 

"  Tilly ! "  said  Maria,  rising  up  in  her  turn, 
"  what  has  come  to  you  ?  What  book  have 
you  been  reading  ?  I  shall  tell  mamma." 

"  I  have  not  been  reading  any  book,"  said 
Matilda. 

"  Then  lie  down  and  quit  talking.  How  do 
you  expect  I  am  going  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  what  we  can  do  at  the 
Dows',  Maria !  to-morrow.  Won't  you  ?  " 


128  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

But  Maria  either  did  not  or  would  not  hear ; 
so  the  matter  passed  for  that  night.  But  the 
next  day  Matilda  brought  it  up  again.  Maria 
found  excuses  to  put  her  off.  Matilda,  how- 
ever, was  not  to  be  put  off  permanently ;  she 
never  forgot ;  and  day  after  day  the  subject 
came  up  for  discussion,  until  Maria  at  last 
consented. 

"  I  am  going  because  you  tease  me  so, 
Tilly,"  she  said  as  they  set  forth  from  the 
gate.  "Just  for  that  and  nothing  else.  I 
don't  like  it  a  bit." 

"  But  you  promised." 

« I  didn't." 

"  To  bring  in  new  scholars  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  promise  I  would  bring  the  Dow 
children  ;  and  I  don't  believe  they'll  come." 

The  walk  before  the  children  was  not  long, 
and  yet  it  almost  took  them  out  of  the  vil- 
lage. They  passed  the  corner  this  time  with- 
out turning,  keeping  the  road,  which  was 
indeed  part  of  the  great  high  road  which  took 
Shadywalk  in  its  way,  as  it  took  many  another 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  129 

village.  The  houses  in  this  direction  soon 
began  to  scatter  further  apart  from  each  other. 
They  were  houses  of  more  pretension,  too, 
with  grounds  and  gardens  and  fruit  trees  about 
them ;  and  built  in  styles  that  were  notable,  if 
not  according  to  any  particular  rule.  Soon 
the  ground  began  to  descend  sharply  towards 
the  bed  of  a  brook,  which  brawled  along  with 
impetuous  waters  towards  a  mill  somewhere 
out  of  sight.  It  was  a  full,  fine  stream, 
mimicking  the  rapids  and  eddies  of  larger 
streams,  with  all  their  life  and  fury  given  to 
its  smaller  current.  The  waters  looked  black 
and  wintry  in  contrast  writh  the  white  snow 
of  the  shores.  A  foot-bridge  spanned  the 
brook,  alongside  of  another  bridge  for  car- 
riages ;  and  just  beyond,  the  black  walls  of  a 
ruin  showed  where  another  fine  mill  had  once 
stood.  That  mill  had  been  burnt.  It  was  an 
old  story ;  the  girls  did  not  so  much  as  think 
about  it  now.  Matilda's  glance  had  gone  the 
other  way,  where  ihe  stream  rushed  along 
from  under  the  bridge  and  hurried  down  a 


130  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

winding  glen,  bordered  by  a  road  that  seemed 
well  traversed.  A  house  could  be  seen  down 
the  glen,  just  where  the  road  turned  in  com- 
pany with  the  brook  and  was  lost  to  view. 

"  I  wonder  who  lives  down  there,"  said 
Matilda. 

"  I  don't  know.  Yes,  I  do,  too ;  but  I  have 
forgotten." 

"  I  wonder  if  they  come  to  church." 

"  I  don't  know  that ;  and  I  shall  not  go  to 
ask  them.  Why  Matilda,  you  never  cared 
before  whether  people  went  to  church." 

"  Don't  you  care  now  ?  "  was  Matilda's  re- 
joinder. 

"  No !  I  don't  care.  I  don't  know  those 
people.  They  may  go  to  fifty  churches,  for 
aught  I  can  tell." 

"  But  Maria," —  said  her  little  sister. 

"What?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Very  likely.     That  isn't  strange." 

"But  Maria,  —  you  promised  the  other 
night  —  O  Maria,  what  things  you  promised ! " 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  131 

«  What  then  ?  "  said  Maria.  «  What  do 
you  mean  ?  What  did  I  promise  ?  " 

"  You  promised  you  would  be  a  servant  of 
Christ,"  Matilda  said  anxiously. 

«  Well,  what  if  I  did  ?  "  said  Maria.  «  Of 
course  I  did ;  what  then.  Am  I  to  find  out 
whether  everybody  in  Shadywalk  goes  to 
church,  because  I  promised  that?  It  is  not 
my  business." 

"Whose  business  is  it?" 

"  It  is  Mr.  Richmond's  business  —  and  Mr. 
Everett's  business;  and  Mr.  Schonflocker's 
business.  I  don't  see  what  makes  it  mine." 

"  Then  you  ought  not  to  have  said  that 
you  would  bring  new  scholars  to  the  school, 
I  think,  if  you  did  not  mean  to  do  it ;  and 
whom  do  you  mean  to  carry  the  message  to, 
Maria  ?  You  said  you  would  carry  the  mes- 


"  I  don't  know  what  carrying  the  message 
means,"  said  Maria. 

Matilda  let  the  question  drop,  and  they 
went  on  their  way  in  silence ;  rising  now  by 


132  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

another  steep  ascent  on  the  other  side  of  the 
brook,  having  crossed  the  bridge.  The  hill  was 
steep  enough  to  give  their  lungs  play  without 
talking.  At  the  top  of  the  hill  the  road 
forked ;  one  branch  turned  off  southwards ; 
the  high  road  turned  east ;  the  sisters  followed 
this.  A  little  way  further,  and  both  slackened 
their  steps  involuntarily  as  the  house  they 
were  going  to  came  full  in  view. 

It  was  like  a  great  many  others;  brown 
with  the  weather,  and  having  a  certain  for- 
lorn look  that  a  house  gets  when  there  are 
no  loving  eyes  within  it  to  care  how  it  looks. 
The  doors  did  not  hang  straight ;  the  win- 
dows had  broken  panes;  a  tub  here  and  a 
broken  pitcher  there  stood  in  sight  of  every 
passer  by.  A  thin  wreath  of  srnoke  curled 
up  from  the  chimney,  so  it  was  certain  that 
people  lived  there ;  but  nothing  else  looked 
like  it.  The  girls  went  in  through  the  rickety 
gate.  Over  the  house  the  bare  branches  of  a 
cherry  tree  gave  no  promise  of  summery 
bloom  ;  and  some  tufts  of  brown  stems  stand- 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  133 

ing  up  from  the  snow  hardly  suggested  the 
gay  hollyhocks  of  the  last  season.  The  two 
girls  slackened  their  steps  yet  more,  and 
seemed  not  to  know  very  well  how  to  go  on. 

"I  don't  like  it,  Tilly,"  Maria  said.  "I 
have  a  mind  to  give  it  up." 

"  O  I  wouldn't,  Maria,"  the  little  one  re- 
plied ;  but  she  looked  puzzled  and  doubtful. 

"  Well,  suppose  they  don't  want  to  see  us 
in  here  ?  it  don't  look  as  if  they  did." 

"  We  can  try,  Maria ;  it  'will  do  no  harm 
to  try." 

"  I  don't  know  that,"  said  Maria.  «  I'll 
never  come  such  an  errand  again,  Matilda; 
never!  I  give  you  notice  of  that.  What 
shall  I  do?  Knock?" 

"  I  suppose  so." 

Maria  knocked.  The  next  minute  the 
upper  half  of  the  door  was  opened  and  an 
oldish  woman  looked  out.  A  dirty  woman, 
with  her  hair  all  in  fly-away  order  and  her 
dress  very  slatternly  as  well  as  soiled. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 


134  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  Are  there  some  children  here  ?  "  Maria 
began. 

"  Children  ?  yes,  there's  children  here. 
There's  my  children." 

"  Do  they  go  to  school  ?  " 

"  Has  somebody  been  stealin'  something 
and  you  want  to  know  if  it's  my  children 
have  done  it?"  said  the  woman.  "'Cos  they 
don't  go  to  no  school  that  you  ever  see." 

"  I  did  not  mean  any  such  thing,"  said 
Maria,  quite  taken  aback. 

"  Well,  what  did  you  mean  ?  "  the  woman 
asked  sharply. 

"  We  want  to  see  the  children,"  Matilda 
put  in.  "  May  we  come  in  and  get  warm,  if 
you  please  ?  " 

The  woman  still  held  the  door  in  her  hand, 
and  looked  at  the  last  speaker  from  head  to 
foot;  then  half  reluctantly  opened  the  door. 

"  I  don't  know  as  it'll  hurt  you  to  come  in," 
she  said ;  "  but  it  won't  do  you  much  good  ; 
the  place  is  all  in  a  clutter  and  it  always  is. 
Come  along  in,  if  you  want  to !  and  shut  the 


•'WHAT  SHE   COULD."  135 

door ;  'tain't  so  warm  here  you'll  need  the 
wind  in  to  help  you.  Want  the  children,  did 
you  say  ?  what  do  you  want  of  'em  ?  " 

Matilda  thought  privately  that  the  wind 
would  have  been  a  good  companion  ;  fter  all ; 
no  sooner  was  the  door  shut,  than  all  remem- 
brance of  fresh  air  faded  away.  An  inex- 
pressible atmosphere  filled  the  house,  in  which 
frying  fat,  smoke,  soapsuds,  and  the  odour  of 
old  garments,  mingled  and  combined  in  pro- 
portions known  to  none  but  such  dwelling 
places.  Yet  it  was  not  as  bad  as  it  might 
have  been,  by  many  degrees ;  the  house  was 
a  little  frame  house,  open  at  the  joints ;  and 
it  stood  in  the  midst  of  heaven's  free  air ;  all 
the  winds  that  came  from  the  mountains  and 
the  river  swept  over  and  around  it ;  came 
down  the  chimney  sometimes,  and  breathed 
blessed  breaths  through  every  opening  door 
and  shackling  window  frame.  But  to  Matilda 
it  seemed  as  bad  as  could  be.  So  it  seemed 
to  her  eyes  too.  Nothing  clean ;  nothing 
comfortable ;  nothing  in  order ;  scraps  of 


136  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

dinner  on  the  floor ;  scraps  of  work  under  the 
table ;  a  dirty  cat  in  the  corner  by  the  stove  ; 
a  wash  tub  occupying  the  other  corner.  The 
woman  had  her  sleeves  rolled  up,  and  now 
plung  d  her  arms  into  the  tub  again. 

"  Y  >u  can  put  in  a  stick  of  wood,  if  you 
want  to,"  she  said;  "  I  guess  the  fire's  got 
down.  What  did  you  come  here  for,  hey  ? 
I  hain't  heard  that  yet,  and  I'm  in  a  takin'  to 
find  out." 

"  We  thought  maybe  your  children  might 
like  to  go  to  Sunday  school,"  said  Maria 
with  a  great  deal  of  trepidation ;  "  and  we 
just  came  to  ask  them.  That's  all." 

"  How  did  ye  know  but  they  went  al- 
ready ?  "  the  woman  asked,  looking  at  Maria 
from  the  corner  of  her  eye. 

"  I  didn't  know.  I  just  came  to  ask 
them." 

"  Well,  I  just  advise  you  not  to  mix  your- 
self with  people's  affairs  till  you  do  know  a 
little  about  'em.  What  business  is  it  o'  yourn, 
hey,  whether  my  children  goes  to  Sunday 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  137 

school  ?  Sunday  school !  what  a  poke  it 
is!" 

"  They  did  not  come  to  our  Sunday  school," 
said  Matilda,  for  her  sister  was  nonplussed ; 
"  and  we  would  like  to  have  them  come ;  un- 
less they  were  going  somewhere  else." 

"  They  may  speak  for  themselves,"  said 
Mrs.  Dow ;  and  she  opened  an  inner  door 
and  called  in  a  shrill  voice  —  "  Araminty !  — 
Jemimy  !  —  Alexander !  —  come  right  along 
down,  and  if  you  don't  I'll  whip  ye." 

She  went  back  to  her  washing-tub,  and 
Maria  and  Matilda  looked  to  see  three  de- 
pressed specimens  of  young  human  life  appear 
at  that  inner  door ;  but  first  tumbled  down 
and  burst  in  a  sturdy,  rugged  young  rascal 
of  some  eight  or  nine  years  ;  and  after  him  a 
girl  a  little  older,  with  the  blackest  of  black 
eyes  and  hair,  the  latter  hanging  straight  over 
her  face  and  ears.  The  eyes  of  both  fastened 
upon  their  strange  visiters,  and  seemed  as  if 
they  would  move  no  more. 

"  Them  girls  is  come  to  get  you  to  their 


138  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

Sunday  school,"  said  the  mother.  "Don't 
you  want  for  to  go  ?  " 

No  answer,  and  no  move  of  the  black  eyes. 
Matilda  certainly  thought  they  looked  as  if 
they  feared  the  lifting  of  no  mortal  hand, 
their  mother's  or  any  other. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  to  Sunday  school  ?  " 
inquired  Maria  politely,  driven  to  speak  by 
the  necessities  of  the  silence.  But  she  might 
as  well  have  asked  Mrs.  Dow's  wash  tub. 
The  mother  laughed  a  little  to  herself. 

"  Guess  you  might  as  well  go  along  back 
the  road  ye  come !  "  she  said.  "  You  won't 
get  my  Araminty  Jemimy  into  no  Sunday 
school  o'  yourn  this  time.  Maybe  when  she's 
growed  older  and  wiser-like,  she'll  come  and 
see  you.  She  don'  know  what  a  Sunday 
school's  like.  She  thinks  it's  some  sort  of  a 
trap." 

"  I  ain't  afraid !  "  spoke  out  black  eyes. 

"  I  didn't  say  you  was,"  said  her  mother. 
"  I  might  ha'  said  you  was  cunnin'  enough  to 
keep  your  foot  out  of  it" 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  139 

«  It  is  not  a  trap,"  said  Matilda  boldly.  «  It 
is  a  pleasant  place,  where  we  sing,  and  learn 
nice  things." 

"  My  children  don't  want  to  learn  none  o' 
your  nice  things,"  said  the  woman.  "  I  can 
teach  'em  to  home." 

"  But  you  don't!  "  said  black  eyes.  "  You 
don't  never  learn  us  nothing  I  " 

There  was  not  the  slightest  sweet  desire 
of  learning  evidenced  in  this  speech.  It 
breathed  nothing  but  defiance. 

"  Alexander,  won't  you  come  ? "  said 
Matilda  timidly,  as  her  sister  moved  to  the 
door.  For  Maria's  courage  gave  out.  But 
at  that  question  the  young  urchin  addressed 
set  up  a  roar  of  hoarse  laughter,  throwing 
himself  down  and  rolling  over  on  the  floor. 
His  mother  shoved  him  out  of  her  way  with 
a  push  that  was  very  like  a  kick,  and  his 
sister  seizing  a  wringing  wet  piece  of  clothes 
from  the  wash  tub,  dropped  it  spitefully  on 
his  head.  There  was  promise  of  a  fight ;  and 
Matilda  and  Maria  hurried  out.  They  has- 


140  "WHAT  SHE  COULD.* 

tened  their  steps  through  the  garden,  and  even 
out  in  the  high  road  they  ran  a  little  to  get 
away  from  Mrs.  Dow's  neighborhood. 

"  Well !  "  said  Maria,  "  what  do  you  think 
now,  Tilly?  I  hope  you  have  got  enough 
for  once  of  this  kind  of  thing.  I  promise  you 
I  have." 

"  Hush  ! "  said  Matilda.  "  Some  one  is 
calling." 

They  stopped  and  turned.  A  shout  was 
certainly  sent  after  them  from  the  gate  they 
had  quitted ;  —  "  Girls,  hollo !  —  Sunday 
school  girls,  hollo !  " 

«  Do  you  hear  ?  "  said  Matilda. 

"  Sunday  school  girls !  —  Come  back !  " 

"  What  can  they  want  ?  "  said  Maria. 

"  We  must  go  see,"  said  Matilda. 

So  they  went  towards  the  gate  again.  By 
the  gate  they  could  soon  see  the  shock  head 
of  Alexander ;  he  had  got  rid  of  the  wash 
tub  and  his  mother  and  his  sister  all  three ; 
and  he  was  waiting  there  to  speak  to  them. 
The  girls  hurried  .up  again  till  they  con- 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD?  141 

fronted  his  grinning  face  on  the  other  side 
of  the  gate. 

"  What  do  you  want  ? "  said  Maria. 
«  What  do  you  call  us  back  for?  " 

"  I  didn't  call  you,"  said  the  boy. 

"  Yes,  you  did ;  you  called  us  back ;  and 
we  have  come  back  all  this  way.  What  do 
you  want  to  say  ?  " 

Alexander's  face  was  dull,  even  in  his 
triumph.  No  sparkle  or  gleam  of  mischief 
prepared  the  girls  for  his  next  speech. 

"  I  say  —  ain't  you  green  !  " 

But  another  shout  of  rude  laughter  followed 
it;  and  another  roll  and  tumble,  though  these 
last  were  on  the  snow.  Maria  and  her  sis- 
ter turned  and  walked  away  till  out  of  hear- 
ing. 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  horrible  people !  " 
said  Maria  ;  "  never !  And  this  is  what  you 
get,  Matilda,  by  your  dreadful  going  after 
Sunday  scholars  and  such  things.  I  do  hope 
you  have  got  enough  of  it." 

But  Matilda    only  drew  deep    sighs,  one 


142  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

after  another,  at  intervals,  and  made  no 
reply. 

"  Don't  you  see  what  a  goose  you  are  ?  " 
persisted  Maria.  "  Don't  you  see  ?  " 

«  No,"  said  Matilda.     «  I  don't  see  that." 

"  Well,  you  might.  Just  look  at  what  a 
time  we  have  had,  only  because  you  fancied 
there  were  two  children  at  that  house." 

«  Well,  there  are  two  children." 

«  Such  children ! "  said  Maria, 

"  I  wish  Mr.  Richmond  would  go  to  see 
them,"  said  Matilda. 

"  It  would  be  no  use  for  Mr.  Richmond  or 
anybody  to  go  and  see  them,"  said  Maria. 
"  They  are  too  wicked." 

"  But  you  cannot  tell  beforehand,"  said 
Matilda. 

"  And  so  I  say,  Tilly,  the  only  way  is  to 
keep  out  of  such  places.  I  hope  you'll  be 
content  now." 

Matilda  was  hardly  content ;  for  the  sighs 
kept  coming  every  now  and  then.  So  they 
went  down  the  hill  again,  and  over  the  bridge, 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  143 

past  the  glen  and  the  burnt  mill,  and  began 
to  go  up  on  the  other  side.  Now  across  the 
way,  at  the  top  of  the  bank  that  overhung  the 
dell,  there  stood  a  house  of  more  than  com- 
mon size  and  elegance,  in  the  midst  of  grounds 
that  seemed  to  be  carefully  planted.  A  fine 
brick  wall  enclosed  these  grounds  on  the  road- 
side, and  at  the  top  of  the  hill  an  iron  gate 
gave  entrance  to  them. 

«  O  Tilly,"  exclaimed  Maria,  "  the  Lard- 
ners'  gate  is  open.  Look!  Suppose  we  go 
in." 

"  I  should  not  like  to  go  in,"  said  the  little 
one. 

"  Why  not  ?  There's  nobody  at  home ; 
they  haven't  come  yet ;  and  it's  such  a  good 
chance.  You  know,  Clarissa  says  that  people 
have  leave  to  go  into  people's  great  places 
and  see  them,  in  England,  where  she  has 
been." 

"  But  this  is  not  a  great  place,  and  we  have 
not  leave,"  urged  Matilda. 

"  O  well,  I'm  going  in.     Come  !  we'll  just 


144  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

go  in  for  a  minute.  It's  no  harm.  Come' 
just  for  a  minute." 

Matilda,  however,  stopped  at  the  gate,  and 
stood  there  waiting  for  her  sister ;  while  Maria 
stepped  in  cautiously  and  made  her  way  as 
far  as  the  front  of  the  house.  Here  she  turned 
and  beckoned  to  Matilda  to  join  her;  but 
the  little  one  stood  fast. 

"  What  does  she  want  of  you  ?  "  a  voice 
asked  at  her  elbow.  Matilda  started.  Two 
ladies  were  there. 

"  She  beckoned  for  me  to  go  in  where  she 
is,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Well,  why  don't  you  go  in  ?  " 

The  voice  was  kindly ;  the  face  of  the  lady 
was  bending  towards  her  graciously ;  but  who 
it  was,  Matilda  did  not  know. 

"  We  have  no  leave  to  go  in,"  she  said.  "  I 
do  not  like  to  be  there." 

"  I  dare  say  the  people  would  let  you  come 
in,  if  they  knew  you  wished  it." 

"  They  do  not  know,"  said  Matilda. 

"  What  a  charming  child ! "  said  the  lady 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  145 

apart  to  her  companion.  "  My  dear,"  she 
went  on  to  Matilda,  "  will  you  come  in  on 
my  invitation  ?  This  is  my  house,  and  you 
are  welcome.  I  shall  be  as  glad  to  see  you  as 
you  to  see  the  place.  Come  !  " 

And  she  took  Matilda's  hand  and  led  her  in. 

Just  at  the  crown  of  the  bank  the  house 
stood,  and  from  here  the  view  was  very  lovely, 
even  now  in  winter.  Over  the  wide  river, 
which  lay  full  in  view  with  its  ice  covering,  to 
the  opposite  shores  and  the  magnificent  range 
of  mountains,  which  from  Matilda's  window 
at  home  she  could  just  see  in  a  little  bit.  The 
full  range  lay  here  before  the  eye,  white  with 
snow,  coloured  and  brightened  by  the  sinking 
sun  which  threw  wonderful  lights  across  them 
and  revealed  beautiful  depths  and  shadows. 
Still,  cold,  high,  far-off;  their  calm  majesty 
held  Matilda's  eye. 

"  Are  you  looking  at  the  mountains  ?  "  said 

the  lady.     "  Yes,  now  come  in  and  you  shall 

look  at  my  flowers.     Your  sister  may  come 

too,"  she  added,  nodding  kindly  to  Maria;  but 

10 


146  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

she  kept  Matilda's  hand,  and  so  led  her  first 
upon  the  piazza,  which  was  a  single  step  above 
the  ground,  then  into  the  hall.  An  octagon 
hall,  paved  with  marble,  and  with  large  white 
statues  holding  post  around  its  walls,  and  a 
vase  of  flowers  on  the  balustrade  at  the  foot 
of  the  staircase.  But  those  were  not  the 
flowers  the  lady  had  meant;  she  passed  on 
to  one  of  the  inner  rooms  and  from  that  to 
another,  and  finally  into  a  pretty  greenhouse, 
with  glass  windows  looking  out  to  the  moun- 
tains and  the  river,  filled  on  this  side  of  the 
windows  with  tropical  bloom.  While  the 
girls  gazed  in  wonder,  the  lady  stepped  back 
into  the  room  they  had  left,  and  threw  off  her 
wrappings.  When  she  came  again  to  the 
girls  in  the  greenhouse  they  hardly  knew 
which  to  look  at,  her  or  the  flowers  ;  her  dress 
and  whole  appearance  were  so  unlike  any- 
thing they  had  ever  seen. 

"  Which  do  you  like  best  ?  "  she  said.  "  The 
roses  you  know,  of  course ;  these  are  camellias, 
—  and  these  —  and  these  red  ones  too ;  all 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  147 

camellias ;  these  are  myrtle  ;  these  are  heath ; 
these  are  geraniums.  All  those  are  geraniums. 
This  is  Eupatorium  —  those,  yes,  those  are 
Azaleas,  and  those,  —  and  all  those.  Yes,  all 
Azaleas.  You  like  them  ?  This  is  Bigonia. 
—  What  do  you  like  best  ?  " 

It  was  a  long  while  before  Matilda  could 
divide  and  define  her  admiration  enough  to 
tell  what  she  liked  best.  Carnations  and 
heath  were  found  at  last  to  have  her  best 
favour.  The  lady  cut  a  bouquet  for  her  with 
plenty  of  carnations  and  heath,  but  a  variety 
of  other  beauty  too ;  then  led  the  girls  into 
the  other  room  and  offered  them  some  rich 
cake  and  a  glass  of  what  Matilda  supposed  to 
be  wine.  She  took  the  cake  and  refused  the 
cordial. 

"  It  is  very  sweet,"  said  the  lady.  «  You 
will  not  dislike  it ;  and  it  will  warm  you,  this 
cold  afternoon." 

"  I  may  not  drink  wine,  ma'am,  thank  you," 
Matilda  answered. 

"  It  is  not  wine.     Does  it  make  you  sick, 


148  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

my  dear  ?  Are  you  afraid  to  try  it  ?  Your 
sister  is  not  afraid.  I  think  it  will  do  you 
good." 

Being  thus  reassured,  Matilda  put  the  glass 
to  her  lips,  but  immediately  set  it  down  again. 

"  You  do  not  like  it?"  said  the  lady. 

"  I  like  it ;  but—  it  is  strong  ?  "  said  Matilda 
inquiringly. 

"  Why  yes,  it  would  not  be  good  for  any- 
thing if  it  were  not  strong.  Never  mind  that 
—  if  you  like  it.  The  glass  does  not  hold  but 
a  thimbleful  and  a  thimbleful  will  not  hurt 
you.  Why,  why  not,  my  dear  ?  " 

Matilda  looked  up,  and  coloured  and  hesi- 
tated. 

"  I  have  promised  not,"  she  said. 

"So  solemnly?"  said  the  lady  laughing. 
K  Is  it  your  mother  you  have  promised  ?  " 

«  No,  ma'am." 

"  Not  your  mother  ?  You  have  a  mother  ?  " 

u  O  yes,  ma'am." 

"  Would  she  have  any  objection  ?  " 

«  No,  ma'am,  —  I  believe  not." 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  149 

"  Then  whom  have  you  made  your  promise 
to  ?  Is  it  a  religious  scruple  that  some  one 
has  taught  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  promised  to  do  all  I  could  for  help- 
ing temperance  work,"  Matilda  said  at  last. 

She  was  answered  with  a  little  ringing 
laugh,  not  unkindly  but  amused;  arid  then 
her  friend  said  gravely,  — 

"  Your  taking  a  glass  of  cordial  in  this 
house  would  not  affect  anything  or  anybody, 
little  one.  It  would  do  me,  no  harm.  I  drink  a 
glass  of  wine  every  day  with  my  dinner.  I 
shall  go  on  doing  it  just  the  same.  It  will  not 
ma^e  a  bit  of  difference  to  me,  whether  you 
take  your  cordial  or  not." 

But  Matilda  looked  at  the  lady,  and  did 
not  look  at  her  glass. 

"Do  you  think  it  will?"  said  the  lady 
laughing. 

"  No,  ma'am." 

"  Then  your  promise  to  help  temperance 
work  does  not  touch  the  cordial." 

"No  ma'am,  but"  — 


150  "  WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

"  But  ?  —  what  <  but '  ?  " 

« It  touches  me." 

«  Does  it  ?  "  said  the  lady.  "  That  is  odd. 
You  think  a  promise  is  a  promise.  Here  is 
your  sister  taking  her  cordial;  she  has  not 
made  the  same  promise,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Maria  and  Matilda  glanced  at  each  other. 

"  She  has  ?  "  cried  the  lady.  "  Yet  you  see 
she  does  not  think  as  you  do  about  it." 

The  sisters  did  not  look  into  each  other's 
eyes  again.  Their  friend  watched  them  both. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  whom  you  have 
made  such  a  promise  to,"  she  said  coaxingly 
to  Matilda.  "  Somebody  that  you  love  well 
enough  to  make  you  keep  it.  Won't  you  tell 
me  ?  It  is  not  your  mother,  you  said.  To 
whom  did  you  make  that  promise,  dear?  " 

Matilda  hesitated  and  looked  up  into  the 
lady's  face  again. 

"  I  promised  —  the  Lord  Jesus,"  she  said. 

"  Good  patience  !  she's  religious!  "  the  lady 
exclaimed,  with  a  change  coming  over  her 
face ;  Matilda  could  not  tell  what  it  was,  only 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  151 

it  did  not  look  like  displeasure.  But  she  was 
graver  than  before,  and  she  pressed  the  cor- 
dial no  more ;  and  at  parting  she  told  Matilda 
she  must  certainly  come  and  see  her  again, 
and  she  should  always  have  a  bunch  of  flowers 
to  pay  her.  So  the  girls  went  home,  saying 
nothing  at  all  to  each  other  by  the  way 


CHAPTER    VII. 

TT  was  tea-time  at  home  by  the  time  they 
got  there.  All  during  the  meal,  Maria 
held  forth  upon  the  adventures  of  the  after- 
noon, especially  the  last. 

"  Mamma,  those  people  are  somebody," 
she  concluded. 

"  I  hope  I  am  somebody,"  said  Mrs.  Engle- 
field. 

"  O  but  you  know  what  I  mean,  mam- 
ma." 

"  I  am  not  clear  that  I  do." 

"  And  I,  Maria,  —  am  I  not  somebody  ?  " 
her  aunt  asked. 

*•  Well,  we're  all  somebody,  of  course,  in 
one  sense.  Of  course  we're  not  nobody" 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  what  you  think 
about  it,"  said  Mrs.  Candy.  «I  think  that 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD?  153 

in  your  language,  who  isn't  somebody,  is 
nobody." 

"  O  well,  we're  somebody"  said  Maria. 
"  But  if  you  could  see  the  splen-did  bunch 
of  jewels  that  hung  at  Mrs.  Laval's  breast, 
you  would  know  I  say  the  truth." 

"  Now  we  are  getting  at  Maria's  meaning," 
observed  Clarissa. 

"  I  have  no  bunch  of  jewels  hanging  at 
my  breast,"  said  Mrs.  Englefield  ;  "  if  that  is 
what  she  means  by  '  somebody.'  " 

"  How  large  a  bunch  was  it  Maria  ?  "  her 
aunt  asked. 

"  And  is  it  certain  that  Maria's  eyes  could 
tell  the  true  from  the  false,  in  such  a  matter 
as  a  bunch  of  jewellery  ?  "  suggested  Clarissa. 
"  They  have  not  had  a  great  deal  of  ex- 
perience." 

Maria  fired  up.  "  I  just  wish  you  could 
see  them  for  yourself!"  she  said.  "False 
jewels,  indeed !  They  sparkle  like  flashes  of 
lightning.  All  glittering  and  flashing,  red 
and  white.  I  never  saw  anything  so  beau> 


154  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

tiful  in  all  my  life.  And  if  you  saw  the 
rest  of  the  dress,  you  would  know  that  they 
couldn't  be  false  jewels." 

"  What  sort  of  a  face  had  she  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  —  handsome." 

"  The  bunch  of  jewels  dazzled  Maria's 
eyes,"  said  Clarissa  sipping  her  tea. 

"  No,  not  handsome,  Maria,"  Matilda  said. 

"  Well,  not  handsome  exactly,  but  pleasant. 
She  had  curls,  and  lightish  hair;  but  her 
dress  was  so  handsome,  it  made  her  look 
handsome.  She  took  a  terrible  fancy  to 
Matilda." 

"  Matilda  is  the  youngest,"  said  her  mother. 

"  It  was  thanks  to  Matilda  we  got  into  the 
house  at  ah1 ;  and  Matilda  had  the  flowers. 
Nobody  spoke  of  giving  me  any  flowers." 

"  Well,  you  know  you  do  not  care  for 
them,"  interposed  Matilda. 

"  Mamma,  those  people  are  somebody  —  I 
can  tell  you ! " 

"  You  speak  as  if  there  were  nobody  else 
in  Shadywalk,  Maria,  that  is  anybody." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  155 

"  Well,  aunt  Candy,  I  don't  know  any  peo- 
ple like  these." 

"  Maria,  you  talk  nonsense,"  said  her 
mother. 

"  Mamma,  it  is  just  what  aunt  Erminia 
would  say  herself,  if  she  knew  the  people." 

"  What  makes  anybody  '  somebody,'  1 
should  like  to  know  ?  and  what  do  you  mean 
by  it  ?  Am  I  nobody,  because  I  cannot  wear 
red  and  white  jewels  at  my  throat  ?  " 

"  It  wasn't  at  her  throat  at  all,  mamma ;  it 
was  just  here  —  on  her  waist." 

"  A  bouquet  de  corsage,"  said  Clarissa. 
"  The  waist,  as  you  call  it,  is  at  the  belt." 

"  Well,  I  am  not  a  mantua-maker,"  said 
Maria. 

"  No  more  than  we  are  somebody,"  said 
Mrs.  Candy. 

"  Well,  you  know  what  I  mean,"  said 
Maria ;  "  and  you  all  think  exactly  the  same. 
There  is  nobody  else  in  Shadywalk  that 
dresses  so,  or  that  has  such  flowers,  or  that 
has  such  a  house." 


156  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

"  Who  are  they,  these  people  that  she  talks 
of?"  Mrs.  Candy  asked. 

"  They  have  lately  bought  the  place.  I 
know  nothing  about  them.  They  were  here 
for  a  little  while  in  the  summer  ;  but  only  to 
turn  everything  upside  down  in  the  house  and 
grounds,  and  make  changes.  I  cannot  im- 
agine what  has  brought  them  here,  to  the 
country,  in  the  depth  of  winter.  They  had 
nothing  to  do  with  anybody  in  Shadywalk, 
that  I  know  of.  Perhaps  they  will,  now  they 
have  got  in  order.  I  believe  they  have  lived 
out  of  America  a  good  deal." 

"  Is  that  what  you  mean  by  '  somebody,' 
Maria  ? "  her  aunt  asked.  "  Perhaps  I  am 
'  somebody,'  according  to  that." 

Maria's  thoughts  would  not  bear  to  be 
spoken,  it  seemed,  for  she  did  not  speak 
them ;  and  it  must  be  a  strong  reason  that 
kept  Maria's  opinions  to  herself.  How- 
ever, the  family  found  something  else  to 
talk  about,  and  Mrs.  Laval  was  not  men- 
tioned asain  till  Maria  and  Matilda  went 


«  WHAT  SHE   COULD."  157 

up  to  bed.  Then  Matilda  had  something 
to  say. 

"  Maria,"  she  began  with  judicial  gravity, 
"  what  was  that  Mrs.  Laval  gave  us  to 
drink  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Maria ;  "  but  it  was 
the  best  thing  I  ever  tasted  in  all  my  life.  It 
was  some  sort  of  wine,  I  guess ;  it  was  strong 
enough.  But  it  was  sweet;  O  it  was  nice  ! " 

"And  you  drank  it!" 

"  I  guess  I  did !  I  only  wished  there  was 
more  of  it." 

"But,  Maria!  —  " 

"Well,  what, 'Maria'?" 

"  You  promised,  Maria,  that  you  would  do 
all  you  could  for  temperance  work." 

"  What  then  ?  I  could  not  do  anything  for 
temperance  there,  child.  As  Mrs.  Laval  said." 

"  You  needn't  have  drunk  the  wine." 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  ?  Mrs.  Laval  gave  it  to 
me ;  I  couldn't  be  rude." 

"  But  that  is  not  keeping  your  promise." 

"  I  made  no  promise  about  it.     I  could  do 


158  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

nothing  in  the  world  for  temperance  there, 
Tilly.  What  would  Mrs.  Laval  care  for  any- 
thing /  should  say  ?  " 

"  But,  Maria !  "  said  her  little  sister  looking 
puzzled  and  troubled  at  once,  — "  you  cannot 
drink  wine  in  one  place,  and  try  to  hinder 
people  from  drinking  it  in  another  place." 

"  Why  can't  I?  It  all  depends  on  the  place, 
Tilly,  and  the  people." 

"  And  the  wine,  I  suppose,"  said  Matilda 
severely. 

"  Yes ! "  said  Maria  boldly,  "  I  dare  say, 
if  all  wine  was  like  that,  Mr.  Richmond  would 
have  no  objection  to  it." 

"  I  don't  see,  Maria,"  said  her  sister,  «  what 
you  made  those  promises  for,  the  other  night. 
I  think  you  ought  not  to  have  got  up  at  all ; 
it  was  the  same  as  speaking ;  and  if  you  do 
not  mean  to  keep  promises  you  should  not 
make  them." 

"  And  what  have  you  got  to  do  with  it  ?  " 
said  Maria  in  her  turn.  "  You  did  not  stand 
up  with  the  rest  of  us  ;  you  have  no  business 


«  WHA  T  SHE  CO  ULD."  159 

to  lecture  other  people  that  are  better  than 
yourself.  I  am  going  to  keep  all  the  promises 
I  ever  made ;  but  I  did  not  engage  to  go 
poking  into  Mrs.  Dow's  wash  kitchen,  nor  to 
be  rude  to  Mrs.  Laval ;  and  I  don't  mean 
to  do  the  one  or  the  other,  I  give  you  notice." 

Matilda  drew  another  of  the  long  breaths 
that  had  come  so  many  times  that  afternoon, 
and  presently  remarked  that  she  was  glad  the 
next  meeting  of  the  Band  would  come  in  a 
few  days. 

Maria  sharply  inquired  "  Why  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  Matilda,  «  I  hope  Mr.  Rich- 
mond will  talk  to  us.  I  don't  understand 
about  things." 

"  Of  course  you  don't ! "  said  Maria ;  "  and 
if  I  were  you  I  would  not  be  so  wise,  till  I 
did  '  understand.'  " 

Matilda  got  into  bed,  and  Maria  sat  down 
to  finish  putting  the  braid  on  her  dress. 

"  Tilly,  what  are  you  going  to  get  with 
your  twenty-five  dollars  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  yet." 


l6o  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  shall  get  a  watch, 
or  a  dress,  like  Anne;  or  something  else. 
What  would  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"What  are  you  going  to  get  with  your 
money,  Matilda  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell,  Maria.  I  know  what  I  am 
going  to  do  with  part;  but  I  don't  know  what 
I  am  going  to  do  with  the  other  part." 

Maria  could  get  no  more  from  her. 

Nothing  new  happened  in  the  family  before 
the  evening  came  for  what  Maria  called  the 
"Band  meeting."  Matilda  went  about  be- 
tween home  and  the  school  extremely  quiet 
and  demure,  and  reserved  rather  more  than 
ordinary;  but  reserve  was  Matilda's  way. 
Only  Maria  knew,  and  it  irritated  her,  that 
her  little  sister  was  careful  to  lock  herself  up 
alone  with  her  Bible,  or  rather  with  some- 
body else's  Bible,  for  Matilda  had  none  of  her 
own,  for  a  good  long  time  every  morning  and 
evening.  Maria  thought  sometimes  she  knew 
of  her  doing  the  same  thing  at  the  noon  recess. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  l6l 

She  said  nothing,  but  she  watched.  And  her 
watching  made  her  certain  of  it.  Matilda 
unlocked  her  door  and  came  out  always  with 
a  face  of  quiet  seriousness  and  a  spirit  in 
armour.  Maria  could  not  provoke  her  (and 
she  tried) ;  nor  could  any  other  temptations  or 
difficulties,  that  she  could  see,  shake  a  certain 
steady  gentleness  with  which  Matilda  went 
through  them.  Matilda  was  never  a  passionate 
child,  but  she  had  been  pleasure-loving  and 
wayward.  That  was  changing  now  ;  and  Ma- 
tilda was  giving  earnest  care  to  her  school  work 
The  desired  evening  for  the  "  Band  meet- 
ing" came,  and  the  young  people  all  went  duly 
to  the  lecture  room ;  though  Maria  reminded 
her  sisters  that  they  did  not  belong  there. 
Letitia  and  Anne  chose  to  go  in  spite  of  that 
fact.  The  room,  though  not  full,  was  filled 
towards  the  upper  end ;  so  the  party  were 
divided,  and  it  happened  that  Matilda  placed 
herself  apart  from  her  sisters,  in  the  front,  at 
the  end  of  a  seat  near  to  Mr.  Richmond.  He 
was  there  already,  standing  by  the  little  desk. 
11 


1 62  "WHAT  SHE    COULD." 

After  the  prayer  and  singing,  Mr.  Richmond 
declared  that  they  were  come  together  for  a 
talk ;  and  he  meant  to  make  it  a  talk.  He 
should  ask  questions,  when  he  chose ;  and 
everybody  else  might  exercise  the  same  liberty. 

"  "We  are  going  to  try  to  understand  things," 
he  said ;  "  and  by  that  somewhat  vague  ex- 
pression I  mean  things  connected  with  our 
covenant,  that  we  have  made,  and  the  work 
we  have  undertaken.  Our  covenant  begins 
with  the  words,  *  We  are  the  servants  of 
Christ.'  Let  us  know  exactly  what  we  mean. 
What  is  it  to  be  a  servant  of  Christ  ?  What 
is  a  servant,  in  the  first  place  ?  " 

There  was  hesitation  ;  then  an  answer  from 
somewhere,  — "  He  is  somebody  who  does 
what  he  is  told." 

*  That  would  be  a  good  servant,"  said  Mr. 
Richmond  smiling;  "but  it  will  do.  He  is 
one  who  acts  under  the  will  of  another,  doing 
the  work  of  another.  A  servant  of  Christ—- 
what does  he  do  ?  —  and  how  does  he  do  it  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer  this  time. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  163 

"  Let  us  look,"  said  Mr.  Richmond.  « In 
the  first  verse  of  the  first  chapter  of  his  epistle 
to  the  Romans,  Paul  calls  himself  a  servant 
of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  in  the  ninth  verse  he  says 
that  he  serves  '  with  his  spirit."  Here  is  a 
mark.  The  service  of  Christ,  you  see,  is  in 
the  first  instance  not  outward,  but  inward. 
Not  hand  work,  nor  lip  work,  nor  money  giv- 
ing; but  service  in  the  spirit.  What  is  that? 

"  It  is  having  your  will  the  same  with  God's 
will. 

"  So  now  look  and  see.  We  all  pledged 
ourselves  the  other  night  to  do  a  great  many 
sorts  of  outward  service ;  good  in  themselves, 
and  right  and  needful  to  do.  But  the  first 
question  is,  Are  we  ourselves  the  servants  of 
Christ  ?  Do  we  in  heart  love  and  obey  and 
agree  to  his  will  ?  If  we  are  not  doing  that, 
or  trying  to  do  it,  our  other  service  is  no  ser- 
vice at  all.  It  is  a  lie,  and  no  service  at  all. 
Or  it  is  service  of  ourselves." 

Mr.  Richmond  paused  a  little. 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  think  that  any  of  you 


164  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

did  not  mean  true  service,  when  the  pledge 
was  given  the  other  night.  So  now  let  us 
see  how  this  true  service  shews  itself. 

"  Jesus  said,  you  remember,  '  Tf  any  man 
serve  me,  let  him  follow  me.'  All  we  have  to 
ask  is,  How  did  the  Lord  himself  walk,  that 
we  should  follow  him  ?  I  recommend  you  to 
study  the  story  of  his  life  very  carefully  and 
very  constantly,  and  be  continually  getting  new 
lessons  from  it.  But  now  let  us  look  just  at 
one  or  two  points. 

"Jesus  said,  « As  long  as  I  am  in  the 
world,  I  am  the  Light  of  the  world.'  Has 
he  commanded  us  to  be  anything  like 
that?" 

One  of  the  boys  answered,  "  Let  your  light 
so  shine  before  men,  that  they  may  see  your 
good  works  and  glorify  your  Father  which  is 
in  heaven." 

"  How  can  our  light  shine  ?  " 

"  Doing  good,"  another  boy  answered. 

"  Being  good,"  said  one  of  the  girls. 

"  Very  well ;  but  what  is  there  in  doing  and 


"WHAT  SHE    COULD."  165 

oeing  good  which  has  any  resemblance  to 
light  ?  What  does  light  do  ?  " 

"  It  shews  things,"  a  boy  said. 

"There's  no  darkness  where  the  light 
comes,"  said  a  little  girl. 

"  Quite  true;  but  how  does  our  doing  good 
and  being  good,  '  shew  things  '  ?  What  does 
it  shew  ?  " 

After  a  little  hesitation  a  voice  replied,  "  It 
shews  what  is  right." 

"  It  shews  what  people  ought  to  do,"  a  boy 
said. 

"  It  shews  what  is  the  will  of  God  about 
us,"  said  Mr.  Richmond ;  "  and  the  more 
exactly  we  are  obedient  to  that  will  and  con- 
formed to  it,  the  more  brightly  do  we  give 
light.  And  do  you  see  ?  our  light-giving  de- 
pends on  what  we  are.  We  give  no  light, 
except  just  so  far  as  we  are  ourselves  what 
God  wills  us  to  be.  And  then  it  shines  out 
in  all  sorts  of  ways.  I  knew  a  little  girl  whose 
eyes  were  like  two  pure  lamps,  always ;  they 
were  so  loving  and  clear  and  true.  I  have 


1 66  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

known  several  people  whose  voices  gave  light 
as  much  as  harmony ;  they  were  so  sweet 
with  the  tones  of  a  glad  heart  and  a  con- 
science at  peace.  I  have  seen  faces  that 
shone,  almost  like  angel  faces,  with  the  love 
of  God  and  the  joy  of  heaven  and  the  love 
of  their  fellow-men.  Now  this  is  the  first 
thing  the  Lord  calls  us  to  be  in  his  service, — 
his  light-bearers.  The  light  comes  from  him ; 
we  must  get  it  from  him ;  and  then  we  must 
shine !  And  of  course  our  actions  give  light 
too,  if  they  are  obedient  to  the  will  of  God. 
A  boy  who  keeps  the  Sabbath  holy  is  almost 
as  good  as  a  sermon  to  a  boy  who  doesn't. 
One  who  refuses  to  touch  the  offered  glass  of 
wine,  shews  the  light  to  another  who  drinks 
it.  A  loving  answer  shames  a  harsh  spirit ; 
and  a  child  faithful  to  her  duties  at  school  is 
a  beacon  of  truth  to  her  fellows. 

"  There  is  one  thing  more ;  and  then  I  will 
talk  to  you  no  longer  this  evening.  Jesus 
said,  '  The  Son  of  man  is  come  to  seek  and 
to  save  that  which  is  lost.'  His  servants  must 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  l6j 

follow  him.  Now,  how  much  are  you  will- 
ing to  do  —  how  far  are  you  willing  to  go 
—  to  accomplish  what  he  came,  and  lived, 
and  died  for  ?  and  how  will  you  set  about 
it?" 

There  was  a  long  silence  here ;  until  Mr. 
Richmond  urged  that  an  answer  should  be 
given.  Then  at  last  somebody  suggested, 

"  Bringing  new  scholars  to  school  ?  " 

"  That  is  one  thing  to  be  done  certainly ; 
and  a  very  good  thing.  What  else  can  we 
attempt?  Remember,  —  it  is  to  seek  and  to 
save  the  lost !  " 

"  We  might  carry  tracts,"  another  sug- 
gested. 

"  You  might ;  and  if  they  arc  good  tracts, 
and  given  with  a  kind  word,  and  followed 
with  a  loving  prayer,  they  will  not  be  carried 
in  vain.  But  to  whom  will  you  take  them, 
Frank  ?  " 

"  Might  take  them  to  the  boys  in  the 
school,"  Frank  thought. 

"  Where  else  ?  " 


1 68  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

"  Might  drop  'era  around  the  corner,"  Mrs. 
Rice  said. 

"  Don't  drop  them  anywhere,  where  it  is 
possible  to  give  them,"  Mr.  Richmond  re- 
plied. "  Do  not  ever  be,  or  seem,  ashamed 
of  your  wares.  Give  lovingly  to  almost  any- 
body, and  the  gift  will  not  be  refused ;  if  you 
choose  the  time  and  place  wisely.  Take  peo- 
ple when  they  are  alone,  as  much  as  you  can. 
But  the  lost,  remember.  Who  are  the  lost  ?  " 

Silence ;  then  a  voice  spoke,  — 

"  People  who  don't  come  to  church." 

"  It  is  a  bad  sign  when  people  do  not  come 
to  church,"  said  Mr.  Richmond.  "  Still,  we 
may  not  make  that  an  absolute  test.  Some 
people  are  sick  and  unable  to  come;  some 
are  deaf  and  unable  to  hear  if  they  did  come ; 
some  are  so  poor  they  have  not  decent  clothes. 
Some  live  where  there  are  no  churches. 
Who  are  the  lost?" 

"  People  who  are  not  going  to  heaven," 
one  little  girl  answered. 

"  People  who  are  not  good,"  another  said 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  169 

"  People  who  swear,"  said  a  boy. 

"  Those  people  who  do  not  love  Jesus 
Christ,"  was  the  answer  of  the  fourth. 

"  That  sums  it  all  up,"  said  Mr.  Richmond 
"  Those  who  do  not  know  the  Lord  Jesus.  — 
They  are  out  of  the  way  to  heaven ;  they  have 
never  trusted  in  his  blood  for  forgiveness; 
they  are  not  good,  for  they  have  not  got  his 
help  to  make  them  good ;  and  if  they  do  not 
swear  and  do  other  dreadful  things,  it  is  only 
because  the  temptation  is  wanting.  They 
are  the  lost.  Now,  does  not  every  one  of  you 
know  some  friend  or  acquaintance,  who  is  a 
lost  one  ?  some  brother  or  sister  perhaps ;  or 
mother  or  father,  or  cousin  or  neighbour,  who 
does  not  love  Jesus  the  Lord  ?  Those  are  the 
very  first  people  for  us  to  seek.  Then,  out- 
side of  those  nearest  ones,  there  is  a  whole 
world  lost.  Let  us  go  after  all,  but  especially 
those  who  have  few  to  look  after  them." 

"  It  is  harder  to  speak  to  those  you  know, 
than  to  those  you  don't  know,"  Mrs.  Trem- 
bleton  said. 


170  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

"  No  matter.  Jesus  said,  '  He  that  taketh 
not  his  cross  and  followeth  after  me,  can- 
not be  my  disciple.'  Let  us  go  to  the  hard- 
est cases." 

"  Are  not  tracts  best  to  use  with  them  ?  " 
Mrs.  Swan  asked. 

"  Use  tracts  or  not,  according  to  circum- 
stances. Your  own  voice  is  often  better  than 
a  tract,  if  it  has  the  right  ring  to  it.  When 

'  'Tis  joy,  not  duty, 
To  speak  his  beauty.' 

"  Speak  that  as  often  and  wherever  you 
can.  And  '  whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to 
do,  do  it  with  thy  might.'  Now  I  have  done 
asking  questions,  and  you  may  ask  me  what- 
ever you  like.  It  is  your  turn." 

Mr.1  Richmond  sat  down. 

But  the  silence  was  unbroken. 

"  I  am  here  to  answer  questions,  remem- 
ber. Has  no  one  anything  to  ask  ?  Has  no 
one  found  any  difficulty  to  be  met,  and  he 
does  not  know  just  how  to  meet  it?  Has  no 
one  found  something  to  be  done,  and  he  does 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  IJ  I 

not  know  just  who  is  to  do  it?  Speak,  and 
tell  everything.  Now  is  the  time." 

Silence  again,  and  then  a  little  boy  said,  — 

"  I  have  found  a  feller  that  would  like,  I 
guess,  to  come  to  Sunday  school;  but  his 
toes  is  out  o'  his  shoes." 

"  Cannot  he  get  another  pair?"  Mr.  Rich- 
mond asked  gravely. 

"  I  guess  not,  sir." 

"  Then  it  is  a  case  for  the  '  Aid  and 
Comfort'  committee,"  said  Mr.  Richmond. 
« Who  is  the  head  of  your  department  ? 
Who  is  chief  of  those  who  are  looking  up 
new  scholars  ?  " 

«  John  Depeyster." 

"  Very  well.  Tell  John  Depeyster  all  about 
your  little  boy  and  his  toes,  and  John  will  go 
to  the  head  of  the  relief  committee, —  that  is, 
Miss  Forshew  ?  —  and  she  will  see  about  it. 
Very  well,  Everett ;  you  have  made  a  good 
beginning.  Who  is  next  ?  " 

"  I  would  like  to  know,"  said  Miss  For- 
shew  in  a  small  voice,  "  where  the  relief  com- 


172  "  WHA  T  SHE   COULD." 

mittee  are  to  get  supplies  from  ?  If  new 
shoes  are  to  be  bought,  there  must  be  funds." 

"  That  is  the  very  thing  the  relief  commit- 
tee undertook,  I  thought,"  said  Mr.  Rich- 
mond. "  Must  there  be  some  scheme  to  re- 
lieve them  first?  Your  business  abilities  can 
manage  that,  Miss  Forshew,  or  I  am  mis- 
taken in  them.  But,  dear  friends,  we  are  not 
going  to  serve  Christ  with  that  which  costs 
us  nothing^ —  are  we  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Richmond,"  said  Ailie  Swan,  "  may 
temperance  people  drink  cider  ?  " 

The  laughter  was  universal  now. 

"  Because,"  said  Ailie  unabashed,  "  I  was 
talking  to  a  boy  about  drinking  it;  and  he 
said  cider  was  nothing." 

"  I  have  seen  some  cider  which  was  more 
than  negative  in  its  effects,"  said  Mr.  Rich- 
mond. "  I  think  you  were  right,  Ailie.  Ci- 
der is  only  the  juice  of  apples,  to  be  sure ; 
but  it  gets  so  unlike  itself  once  in  a  while, 
that  it  is  quite  safe  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  it." 


•«  WHAT  SHE   COULD"  173 

"Mr.  Richmond,"  said  another  girl,  "what 
are  you  to  do  if  people  are  rude  ?  " 

"  The  Bible  says,  '  A  soft  answer  turneth 
away  wrath,'  Mary." 

"  But  suppose  they  will  not  listen  to  you  ?  " 

"  Be  patient.  People  did  not  always  listen 
to  the  Master,  you  remember." 

"  But  would  you  try  again  ?  " 

« If  I  had  the  least  chance.  We  must  not 
be  afraid  of  '  taking  the  wind  on  our  face,'  as 
an  old  writer  says.  I  would  try  again  ;  and 
I  would  pray  more  for  them.  Did  you  try 
that,  Mary  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Don't  ever  hope  to  do  anything  without 
prayer.  Indeed,  we  must  look  to  God  to  do 
all.  We  are  nothing.  If  anything  is  to  be 
accomplished  for  the  service  of  Christ  by  our 
hands,  it  must  be  by  God's  grace  working 
through  us  and  with  us;  no  other  way.  The 
power  is  his,  always.  So  whatever  you  do, 
pray  ;  and  hope  in  God ;  not  in  yourself." 

"  Mr.  Richmond,"  said  Frances  Barth,  "  I 


174          "WHAT  SHE  COULD:'' 

do  not  understand  about '  carrying  the  mes- 
sage.' What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  You  know  what  the  message  is  ?  We 
are  commanded  to  preach  the  gospel  to  every 
creature." 

"  But  how  can  we  do  it?  —  people  who  are 
not  ministers." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  get  up  into  a  pulpit 
to  preach  the  gospel." 

"No,  sir;  but  —  any  way,  how  is  one  to 
'  carry  the  message '  ?  " 

"  First,  I  would  say,  be  sure  that  you  have 
a  message  to  carry." 

"  I  thought  you  just  said,  Mr.  Richmond, 
that  the  gospel  is  the  message  ? "  said  Mrs, 
Trembleton. 

"  It  is,  the  material  of  the  message ;  but  you 
know  it  must  be  very  differently  presented  to 
different  people." 

"  I  know  ;  but  how  can  you  tell  ?  " 

"  As  I  said  —  be  sure  that  you  have  a  mes- 
sage to  carry.  Let  your  heart  be  full  of  some 
thought,  or  some  truth,  which  you  long  to  tell 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  1>J$ 

to  another  person,  or  long  that  another  per- 
son should  know.  Then  ask  the  Lord  to  give 
you  the  right  word  for  that  person;  and  ask 
him  to  let  his  power  go  along  with  it." 

"  Then  one's  own  heart  must  be  full  first," 
said  another  lady,  Mrs.  Barth,  thoughtfully. 

"  It  should  be.     And  it  may  be." 

"  One  has  so  little  time  to  give  to  these 
things,"  said  Mrs.  Trembleton. 

"  Shall  we  serve  the  Lord  with  that  which 
costs  us  nothing  ?  "  again  said  Mr.  Richmond. 
But  he  did  not  prolong  the  conversation  after 
that.  He  gave  out  a  hymn  and  dismissed  the 
assembly. 

Matilda  being  quite  .in  the  front,  was 
some  distance  behind  her  sisters  in  coming 
out.  As  she  passed  slowly  down  the  aisle, 
she  came  near  two  of  her  little  acquaint- 
ances in  one  of  the  seats,  who  were  busily 
talking. 

"  It  would  be  so  nice ! "  she  heard  the  one 
say  to  the  other. 

'«  Where  shall  we  do  it  ?  " 


176.  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

"  There's  no  place  at  our  house." 

"  No  more  there  isn't  at  mine.  There  are 
so  many  people  about  all  over.  Where  can 
we  go?" 

"I'll  tell  you.  Mr.  Ulshoeffer  has  this 
place  nice  and  warm  long  before  Sunday 
school  time,  on  Sundays ;  let  us  come  here. 
We  could  come  awhile  before  the  time,  you 
know ;  and  it  would  be  so  nice.  Nobody 
would  interrupt  us.  O,  there's  Matilda  Engle- 
field  —  Matilda,  won't  you  come  too  ?  O,  I 
forgot ;  you  are  not  one  of  the  Band." 

«  Yes,  I  am,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Why,  you  didn't  rise  the  other  night,  when 
we  all  rose.  I  looked  over  at  you  to  see." 

"  I  gave  Mr.  Richmond  my  name  after- 
wards." 

"  O,  did  you !  O  that's  good.  Now,  Ma- 
tilda, wouldn't  you  like  to  come  with  Mary 
and  me?" 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Why,  Mary  said  she  would  like  to  begin 
and  read  the  Life  of  Jesus,  you  know,  to  see 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  177 

how  he  did  live  ;  if  we  are  to  follow  him,  you 
know ;  and  I  said  I  would  like  it  too  ;  and 
we're  going  to  do  it  together.  And  we're 
coming  here  Sundays,  before  time  for  Sun- 
day school,  to  have  a  good  quiet  place  where 
nobody  can  trouble  us.  Don't  you  want  to 
come  too,  Matilda  ?  " 

"  Yes.  But  other  people  will  find  it  out 
and  come  too." 

"  We'll  lock  the  door,  —  till  it  is  time  for 
the  people  to  come  to  Sunday  school,  you 
know." 

"  But  I  don't  believe  we  can  get  in,  Ailie," 
said  Mary  Edwards.  "  I  guess  Mr.  Ulshoeffer 
keeps  the  door  locked  himself." 

"  I  know  he  does;  but  I  know  Regina  Ul- 
shoeffer, and  she'll  get  leave  for  us  and  get 
the  key.  I  know  she  will.  Then  we'll  come, 
won't  we  ?  Good-night!  Bring  your  Testa- 
ment, Tilly!" 

The  little  group  scattered  at  the  lecture 
room  door,  and  Matilda  ran  after  her  party. 
They  were  far  ahead ;  and  when  she  caught 
12 


178  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

up  with  them  they  were  deep  in  eager  talk, 
which  was  almost  altercation.  Matilda  fell 
behind  and  kept  out  of  it  and  out  of  hearing 
of  it,  till  they  got  home. 

"  Well !  "  said  Mrs.  Candy,  as  they  entered 
the  parlour,  "  what  now  ?  You  do  not  look 
harmonious,  considering.  What  have  you 
had  to-night  ?  " 

"  An  impossible  sort  of  enthusiasm,  mam- 
ma," said  Clarissa,  as  she  drew  off  her  hand- 
some furs. 

"  Impossible  enthusiasm ! "  repeated  Mrs. 
Candy. 

"  What  has  Mr.  Richmond  been  talking 
about  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Englefield. 

"  Why,  mamma,"  said  Letitia,  "  we  are  all 
to  spend  our  lives  in  feeding  sick  people,  and 
clothing  lazy  people,  and  running  after  the 
society  of  wicked  people,  as  far  as  I  can 
make  out ;  and  our  money  of  course  goes  on 
the  same  plan.  I  advise  you  to  look  after 
Maria  and  Matilda,  for  they  are  just  wise 
enough  to  think  it's  all  right ;  and  they  will 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  179 

r>e  carrying  it  into  practice  before  you  know 
where  you  are." 

"  It  is  not  so  at  all !  "  began  Maria  indig- 
nantly. "  It  is  nothing  like  that,  mamma. 
You  know  Mr.  Richmond  better. 

"  I  think  I  know  you  better,  too.  Look 
where  your  study  books  were  thrown  down 
to-day  when  you  came  from  school.  Take 
them  away,  before  you  do  anything  else  or 
say  anything  more." 

Maria  obeyed  with  a  gloomy  face. 

"  Do  you  approve  of  Mr.  Richmond,  aunt 
Marianne  ?  "  Clarissa  asked.  "  If  so,  I  will 
say  no  more ;  but  I  was  astonished  to-night. 
I  thought  he  was  a  man  of  sense." 

"  He  is  a  man  of  sense,"  said  Mrs.  Engle- 
field;  "but  I  always  thought  he  carried  his 
notions  rather  far." 

"  Why,  aunt,  he  would  make  missionaries 
and  colporteurs  and  sisters  of  charity  of  us 
all.  Sisters  of  charity  are  a  magnificent  in- 
stitution, of  course ;  but  what  would  become 
of  the  world  if  we  were  all  sisters  of  charity  ? 


l8o  "WHAT  SHE    COULD." 

And  the  idea !  that  everybody  is  to  spend 
his  whole  time  and  all  his  means  in  look- 
ing up  vagrants  and  nursing  fever  cases! 
I  never  heard  anything  like  it  in  my  life. 
That,  and  doing  the  work  of  travelling 
Methodists ! " 

"I  wonder  what  the  ministry  is  good  for," 
said  Mrs.  Candy,  "  if  everybody  is  to  do  the 
same  work." 

"  I  do  not  understand  it,"  said  Mrs.  Engle- 
field.  "  I  was  not  brought  up  to  these  extreme 
theories  myself;  and  I  do  not  intend  that  my 
children  shall  be." 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  Maria  re-entering, 
"  Mr.  Richmond  does  not  go  into  extreme 
theories." 

"  Did  you  eat  an  apple  after  dinner?  "  said 
her  mother. 

"  Yes,  rna'am." 

"  You  eat  it  up  here,  instead  of  in  the  din- 
ing room  ?  " 

"  Why,  mamma,  you  know  we  often  "  — 

"  Answer  me.     You  eat  it  up  here  ?  " 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  i8l 

"  Yes." 

"  What  did  you  do  with  the  core  and  the 
peel  ?  " 

"  Mamma,  I  —  you  know  I  had  no  knife  "    • 

"  What  did  you  do  with  it  ?  " 

No  answer,  except  that  Maria's  cheeks 
grew  bright. 

"  You  know  what  you  did  with  it,  I  sup- 
pose. Now  bring  it  to  me,  Maria." 

Colouring  angrily  as  well  as  confusedly, 
Maria  went  to  the  mantelpiece  where  stood 
two  little  china  vases,  and  took  down  one  of 
them. 

"  Carry  it  to  your  aunt  Candy,"  said  her 
mother.  "  Look  at  it,  Erminia.  Now  bring 
it  here.  Take  this  vase  away,  and  empty 
it,  and  wash  it,  and  put  it  in  its  place  again ; 
and  never  use  it  to  put  apple  peels  in,  as  long 
as  you  live." 

Maria  burst  into  tears  and  went  away  with 
the  vase. 

"  Just  a  little  careless,"  said  her  aunt. 

"  Heedless  —  always  was,"  said  her  mother. 


1 82  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  Now  Matilda  is  not  so ;  and  Anne  and  Le- 
titia  were  neither  of  them  so.  It  is  a  mystery 
to  me,  what  makes  one  child  so  different  from 
another  child." 

"  Matilda  is  a  little  piece  of  thoughtfulness," 
said  her  aunt,  drawing  the  child  to  her  side 
and  kissing  her.  "  Don't  you  think  a  little  too 
much,  Tilly?" 

Matilda  wondered  whether  her  aunt  thought 
quite  enough. 

"  Now,  Maria,"  Mrs.  Englefield  went  on 
as  her  other  daughter  came  in,  "  are  you 
purposing  to  enter  into  all  Mr.  Rich- 
mond's plans  that  Clarissa  has  been  talking 
about?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  —  of  course,"  Maria  said. 

"  Well,  I  want  you  to  take  notice,  that  I 
expect  in  the  first  place  that  all  your  home 
and  school  duties  shall  be  perfectly  performed. 
Religion,  if  it  is  good  for  anything,  makes 
people  do  their  duties.  Your  lessons  must 
be  perfect;  your  drawers  kept  in  order; 
your  clothes  mended  ;  you  must  be  punctual 


SHE  COULD:''          183 


at  school  and  orderly  at  home  ;  do  you  hear  ? 
And  if  all  this  is  not  done,  I  shall  take  all 
your  pretended  religion  for  nothing  but  a 
sham  ;  and  shall  pay  no  respect  to  it  at  all. 
Now  go  to  bed  ;  and  act  religion  for  a  month 
before  I  hear  you  talk  another  word  about  it." 

Maria  went  silently  upstairs,  accompanied 
by  her  little  sister  ;  but  once  in  their  room, 
she  broke  out. 

"  Mamma  is  real  cross  to-night!  It  is  just 
Clarissa's  doing." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Maria,"  her  sister 
said  ;  "  she  is  not  cross  ;  she  is  worried.  I 
know  she  is  worried." 

"  About  Mr.  Richmond  ?  "  said  Maria. 

"  I  don't  know  about  what.  No,  I  guess 
she  was  worried  before  we  came  back." 

"  She  was  cross  anyhow  !  "  said  Maria. 
''  How  can  one  do  everything  perfectly  !  " 

"  But  that  is  just  what  Mr.  Richmond  said," 
Matilda  urged  gently. 

"What?" 

"  That   we   should   be   light  -  bearers,   you 


184  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

know.     That  is  the  way  to  be  a  light-bearer; 
to  do  everything  perfectly." 

"  Well,  you  may,  if  you  can,"  said  Maria. 
« I  can't." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

"FT1ILLY,  that   money  burns  ray  pocket," 

J-    Maria  said  the  next  morning. 

"Then  you  had  better  put  it  somewhere, 
else." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  that  is  smart,"  said 
Maria,  "  but  it  isn't ;  for  that  is  just  what  I 
mean  to  do.  I  mean  to  spend  it,  somehow." 

"What  for?" 

"  That's  just  what  I  don't  know.  There 
are  so  many  things  I  want :  and  I  do  not  know 
what  I  want  most.  I  have  a  good  mind  to 
buy  a  writing  desk,  for  one  thing." 

"  Why  you  have  got  one  already." 

"  I  mean  a  handsome  one,  —  a  real  beauty, 
large,  you  know,  and  with  everything  in  it. 
That  lock  of  mine  isn't  good.  Anybody  could 
open  it." 


1 86          "WHAT  SHE  COULD:' 

uBut  there  is  nobody  to  do  that,"  said 
Matilda.  "  Nobody  comes  here  but  you  and 
me." 

"  That  don't  make  any  difference ! "  said 
Maria  impatiently.  "  Don't  be  so  stupid.  I 
would  like  to  have  a  nice  thing,  anyhow. 
Then  sometimes  I  think  I  would  rather  have 
a  gold  chain  —  like  Clarissa's." 

"  You  could  not  get  that  for  twenty-five 
dollars,"  said  Matilda. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Hers  cost  three  or  four  times  as  much  as 
that." 

"  Did  it  ?  —  Well,  then  I  guess  I  will  have 
the  desk.  Or  a  whole  lot  of  handsome  sum- 
mer dresses.  I  guess  I  will  have  that." 

"  Maria,"  said  her  little  sister  facing  round 
upon  her,  "  how  much  are  you  going  to  give 
to  the  Missionary  Fund  ?  " 

"  The  Missionary  Fund?"  said  Maria. 

"  Yes.  You  promised  to  help  that,  you 
know." 

"  Not  with  my  twenty-five  dollars ' "  said 


"WHAT  SHE  rOULD."  187 

Maria  energetically.  "  I  think  you  are  crazy, 
Matilda." 

«  Why?" 

"  Because !  To  ask  me  such  a  question  as 
that.  Aunt  Candy's  present ! " 

"  Didn't  you  promise  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  promise  to  give  my  money —  any 
more  than  I  usually  give.  I  put  a  penny  in 
every  Sunday." 

"  Then  I  don't  see  how  you  are  going  to 
help  the  Fund,"  said  Matilda.  "  I  don't  see 
why  you  promised,  either." 

"  I  promised,  because  I  wanted  to  join  the 
Band;  and  I  am  going  to  do  everything  I 
ought  to  do.  I  think  I  am  just  as  good  as 
you,  Matilda." 

Matilda  let  the  matter  drop. 

It  did  not  appear  what  she  was  going  to  do 
with  her  money.  She  always  said  she  had 
not  decided.  Only,  one  day  soon  after  the 
last  meeting  recorded,  Matilda  was  seen  in 
one  of  the  small  bookstores  of  Shadywalk. 
There  was  not  reading  enough  in  the  village 


1 88  "  WH^ft  SHE   COULD." 

to  support  a  bookstore  proper ;  so  the  books 
crept  into  one  corner  of  the  apothecaries' 
shops,  with  supplies  of  stationery  to  form  a 
connecting  link  between  them  and  the  toilet 
articles  on  the  opposite  counter.  To  one  of 
these  modest  retreats  of  literature  Matilda 
came  this  day  and  requested  to  look  at  Bibles. 
She  chose  one  and  paid  for  it ;  but  she  took  a 
long  time  to  make  her  choice,  was  excessively 
particular  about  the  goodness  of  the  binding 
and  the  clearness  of  the  type ;  detecting  an 
incipient  loose  leaf  in  one  that  was  given  her 
to  examine ;  and  finally  going  away  perfectly 
satisfied.  She  said  nothing  about  it  at  home ; 
but  of  course  Maria  saw  the  new  purchase 
immediately. 

"  So  you  have  been  to  get  a  Bible ! "  she 
said.  "Did  you  get  it  with  part  of  your 
twenty  five  dollars  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  had  no  other  money,  Maria,  to 
get  it  with." 

"  I  think  you  are  very  foolish.  What  do 
you  want  a  Bible  for  ?  " 


«  WHA  T  SHE   &ULD."  l8q 

"  I  had  none." 

"  You  could  always  read  mine." 

"  Not  always.  And  Maria,  you  know,  if 
we  are  to  follow  Jesus,  we  want  to  know  very 
well  indeed  how  he  went  and  what  he  did  and 
what  he  wants  us  to  do  ;  and  we  cannot  know 
all  that  without  a  great  deal  of  study." 

"  I  have  studying  enough  to  do  already,  for 
my  part,"  said  Maria. 

"  But  you  must  study  this  ?  " 

"I  haven't  a  minute  of  time,  Matilda;  — 
not  a  minute." 

'*  Then  how  will  you  know  what  to  do?" 

"  Just  as  well  as  you  will,  perhaps.  I've 
got  my  map  of  South  America  to  do  all  over, 
from  the  beginning." 

"  And  all  the  rest  of  the  class?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  you  are  no  worse  off  than  the  others. 
And  Ailie  Swan  reads  her  Bible,  I  know." 

"I  think  I  am  just  as  good  as  Ailie  Swan," 
said  Maria  with  a  toss  of  her  head. 

"  But,   Maria,"  —  said   Maria's  little  sister, 


190  "  IVHJfT  SHE   COULD." 

leaning  her  elbows  on  the  table  and  looking 
earnestly  up  at  her. 

"Well,  what?" 

«  Is  that  the  right  way  to  talk  ?  " 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  don't  see  what  Ailie  has  to  do  with  your 
being  good." 

"  Nor  I,  I  am  sure,"  said  Maria.  "  It  was 
you  brought  her  up." 

"  Because,  if  she  has  time,  I  thought  you 
might  have  time." 

«  Well,  I  haven't  time,"  said  Maria.  "  It 
is  as  much  as  I  can  do,  to  study  my  lesson  for 
Sunday  school." 

"  Then,  Maria,  how  can  you  know  how  to 
be  good  ?  » 

"  It  is  no  part  of  goodness  to  go  preaching 
to  other  people,  I  would  have  you  know," 
said  Maria. 

Matilda  turned  over  the  leaves  of  her  new 
Bible  lovingly,  and  said  no  more.  But  her 
sister  failing  her,  she  was  all  the  more  driven 
to  seek  the  little  meetings  in  the  corner  of  ihe 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  191 

Sunday  school  room  ;  and  they  grew  to  be 
more  and  more  pleasant.  At  home  nothing 
seemed  to  be  right.  Mrs.  Englefield  was  not 
like  herself.  Anne  and  Letitia  were  gloomy 
and  silent.  The  air  was  heavy.  Even  Clarissa's 
beautiful  eyes,  when  they  were  slowly  lifted 
up  to  look  at  somebody,  according  to  her  cus- 
tom, seemed  cold  and  distant  as  they  were  not 
at  first.  Clarissa  visited  several  sick  people 
and  carried  them  nourishing  things ;  but  she 
looked  calm  disapproval  when  Maria  pro- 
claimed that  Tilly  had  been  all  up  Lilac  lane 
to  look  for  a  stray  Sunday  school  scholar. 
Mrs.  Englefield  laughed  and  did  not  interfere. 

"  I  would  never  let  a  child  of  mine  go  there 
alone,"  said  Mrs.  Candy. 

"  There  is  no  danger  in  Shadywalk,"  said 
Mrs.  Englefield. 

"  You  will  be  sorry  for  it,  sister." 

"  Well  —  I  am  sorry  for  most  things,  sooner 
or  later,"  said  Mrs.  Englefield. 

So  weeks  went  by ;  until  it  came  to  be  the 
end  of  winter,  and  something  of  spring  was 


192  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

already  stealing  into  the  sunlight  and  soften- 
ing the  air  ;  that  wonderful  nameless  "  some- 
thing," which  is  nothing  but  a  far-off  kiss  from 
Spring's  fingers.  One  Sunday  Mrs.  Engle- 
field  had  gone  to  bed  with  a  headache ;  and 
hastening  away  from  the  dinner  table,  Matilda 
went  off  to  her  appointment.  Mr.  Ulshoeffer 
had  been  propitious  ;  he  let  the  little  girls  have 
the  key  on  the  inside  of  the  schoolroom  door ; 
and  an  hour  before  it  was  time  for  the  classes 
of  the  school  to  be  gathering,  the  three  friends 
met  at  the  gate  and  went  in.  They  always 
sat  in  a  far-off  corner  of  one  of  the  transepts, 
to  be  as  cozy  as  possible.  They  were  all 
punctual  to-day,  Ailie  having  the  key  of  the 
door. 

"  Girls,  don't  you  get  confused  sometimes, 
with  the  things  you  hear  people  say?  "she 
asked  as  she  unlocked  the  door.  "  I  do ;  and 
then  sometimes  I  get  real  worried." 

"  So  do  I  get  worried  !  "  Mary  Edwards 
assented.  "  And  I  don't  know  what  to  say — 
*Sat's  the  worst  of  it." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  193 

"  Now  only  to-day,"  Ailie  went  on,  as  they 
walked  up  the  matted  aisle  with  a  delicious 
sense  of  being  free  and  alone  and  confidential, 
"  I  heard  some  one  say  it  was  no  use  for 
children  to  be  Christians ;  he  said  they  didn't 
know  their  own  minds,  and  don't  know  what 
they  want,  and  by  and  by  it  will  all  be  smoke. 
And  when  I  hear  such  things,  it  affects  me 
differently.  Sometimes  I  get  mad ;  and  then 
sometimes  it  takes  the  strength  all  out  of 
me." 

"  But  if  we  have  the  right  sort  of  strength," 
said  Matilda,  "  people  can't  take  it  from  us, 
Ailie." 

"  Well,  mine  seems  to  go,"  said  Ailie. 
«  And  then  I  feel  bad." 

"  We  know  what  we  want,"  said  Mary, — 
"  if  we  are  children." 

"  We  know  our  own  minds,"  said  Matilda. 
"  We  know  we  do.  It  is  no  matter  what 
people  say." 

"  I  wish  they  wouldn't  say  it,"  said  Ailie. 
"  Or  I  wish  I  needn't  hear  it.  But  it  is  good 
13 


194  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

tc  come  here  and  read,  isn't  it  ?  And  I  think 
our  talk  helps  us  —  don't  you  ?  " 

"  It  helps  me,"  said  Mary  Edwards.  "  I've 
got  nobody  at  home  to  talk  to." 

"  Let  us  begin,  girls,  or  we  shall  not  have 
time,"  said  Matilda.  "  It's  the  fourteenth 
chapter.'  * 

"  Of  Luke  ?  "  said  Ailie.  "  Here  it  is.  But 
I  don't  like  Luke  so  well  as  Matthew;  do 
you?  Well,  begin." 

They  began  and  read  on,  verse  by  verse, 
until  fourteen  verses  were  read.  There  they 
paused. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  said  Matilda, 
knitting  her  small  brows. 

"  Isn't  it  right  to  ask  our  friends  to  tea  or 
anything?  Why,  Jesus  went  to  dine  with 
this  Pharisee,"  said  Mary  looking  up. 

«  Yes,  but  that  is  another  thing,"  said  Ma- 
tilda. "  You  see,  we  must  ask  the  people 
who  have  no  friends." 

"  But  why  not  our  friends  too  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  it  would  cost  too  much  to  ask 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  195 

everybody"  said  Ailie.  "  One  would  be  giving 
parties  all  the  time ;  and  they  cost,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"  But  some  people  are  rich  enough,"  said 
Mary. 

"  Those  people  don't  make  parties  for  the 
poor,  though,"  said  Ailie.  "  Catch  them  ! " 

"  But  then,  can  it  mean  that  it  is  wrong  to 
have  our  friends  come  and  see  us  ?  "  said  Ma- 
tilda. 

"  It  cannot  be  wrong.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber, Martha  and  Mary  used  to  have  Jesus 
come  to  their  house  ?  and  they  used  to  make 
suppers  for  him." 

"  But  he  was  poor  "  —  said  Matilda. 

"  That  is  different,  too,  from  having  a  party, 
and  making  a  great  fuss,"  said  Ailie. 

"  And  that  is  done  just  to  pay  one's  debts," 
said  Matilda,  "  for  I  have  heard  mother  say 
so.  People  ask  her,  and  so  she  must  ask  peo- 
ple. And  that  is  what  it  means,  girls,  I 
guess.  See,  — '  lest  they  also  bid  thee  again, 
and  a  recompense  be  made  thee.'  That 


196         "WHAT  SHE  COULD:'' 

isn't  making  a  feast  for  people  that  you 
tove." 

"  Then  it  is  wicked  to  ask  people  just  that 
-.hey  may  ask  you,"  said  Mary  Edwards. 

"  Instead  of  that,  we  must  ask  people  who 
mnnot  ask  us,"  said  Matilda. 

"  But  how  queer  we  should  be ! "  said  Ailie 
Swan.  "  Just  think ;  we  should  not  be  like 
anybody  else.  And  what  should  we  do  if 
people  asked  us  ?  " 

«  I  don't  care,"  said  Matilda.     «  See,  girls  ; 

—  *  thou  shalt  be  recompensed  at  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  just.' " 

"  And  is  that  what  it  means  in  the  next 
verse  ?  "  said  Mary  Edwards.  "  But  I  don't 
understand  that.  '  Blessed  is  he  that  shall 
eat  bread  in  the  kingdom  of  God.'  Do  they 
eat  bread  there  ?  I  thought  they  didn't." 

"  It  is  like  what  we  read  a  little  way  back," 
said  Matilda,  flirting  over  one  or  two  leaves, 

—  "yes,  here  in  the  12th  chapter,  —  'Blessed 
are  those  servants  whom  the   Lord  when  he 
cometh  shall  find  watching;  verily  I  say  unto 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  197 

you,  that  he  shall  gird  himself,  and  make 
them  to  sit  down  to  meat,  and  will  come  forth 
and  serve  them.' " 

"  That  means  Jesus,"  said  Mary  Edwards. 
"  He  will  make  them  to  sit  down  to  meat !  — 
and  will  serve  them.  What  does  it  mean,  I 
wonder  ?  " 

"  It  means,  that  Jesus  will  give  them  good 
things,"  said  Ailie. 

"  I  guess  they  will  be  blessed,  then,  —  that 
eat  when  He  feeds  them,"  said  the  other  little 
girl.  "  I  would  like  to  be  there." 

"  There  is  a  verse  or  two  that  my  Bible 
turns  to,"  said  Matilda.  "  In  the  Revelation. 
*  And  he  saith  unto  me,  Write,  Blessed  are 
they  which  are  called  unto  the  marriage  sup- 
per of  the  Lamb.'  O,  don't  you  like  to  read 
in  the  Revelation  ?  But  we  are  all  called  ; 
aren't  we  ?  " 

"  And  here,  in  our  chapter,"  said  Mary,  "  it 
goes  on  to  tell  of  the  people  who  were  called 
and  wouldn't  come.  So  I  suppose  everybody 
is  called ;  and  some  won't  come." 


198  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  Some  don't  get  the  invitation,"  said  Ma- 
tilda looking  up. 

"  A  good  many  don't,  I  guess,"  said  Ailie. 
"  Who  do  you  think  gets  it  in  Lilac  lane  ?  " 

"  Nobody,  hardly,  I  guess,"  said  Mary  Ed- 
wards ;  "  there  don't  many  people  come 
to  church  out  of  Lilac  lane." 

"  But  then,  girls,"  said  Matilda,  "  don't  you 
think  we  ought  to  take  it  there  ?  the  invita- 
tion, I  mean  ?  " 

"  How  can  we  ?  Why,  there  are  lots  of 
people  in  Lilac  lane  that  I  would  be  afraid  to 
speak  to." 

•'  I  wouldn't  be  afraid,"  said  Matilda. 
u  They  wouldn't  do  us  any  harm." 

"  But  what  would  you  say  to  them,  Tilly  ?  " 

"  I  would  just  ask  them  to  come,  Ailie.  I 
would  take  the  message  to  them.  Just  think, 
Ailie,  of  that  time,  of  that  supper  —  when 
Jesus  will  give  good  things  with  his  own 
hand ;  —  and  how  many  people  would  come 
if  they  knew.  I  would  tell  everybody.  Don't 
you  think  we  ought  to  ?  " 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  199 

"  I  don't  like  to  speak  to  people,  much," 
said  Ailie.  "  They  would  think  I  was  setting 
myself  up." 

"  It  is  only  carrying  the  message,"  said  Ma- 
tilda. "  And  that  is  what  Jesus  was  doing 
all  the  time,  you  know  ;  and  he  has  told  us  to 
follow  him." 

"  Then  must  we  be  telling  it  all  the  time 
too  ?  "  asked  Ailie.  "  We  should  do  nothing 
else." 

"  O  yes,  we  should.  That  would  not 
hinder,"  said  Matilda.  "  It  doesn't  take  so 
very  long  to  say  a  word.  Here  is  another 
verse,  girls ;  this  is  in  the  Revelation  too ; 
listen.  This  must  be  what  those  other  verses 
mean :  '  They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither 
thirst  any  more  ;  neither  shall  the  sun  light 
on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which 
is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them, 
and  shall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of 
waters ;  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  their  eyes.' " 

As  if  a  thrill  from  some  chord  of  an  angel's 


200  "WHAT  SHE   COULD. 

harp  had  reached  them,  the  children  were 
still  for  a  moment. 

"  I  don't  believe  the  people  are  happy  in 
Lilac  lane,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Maybe  they  are,"  said  Ailie.  "  But  I 
guess  they  can't  be.  People  that  are  not 
good,  can't  be  happy." 

"  And  Jesus  has  given  us  the  message  to 
take  to  everybody,"  said  Matilda  ;  "  and  when 
we  come  up  there,  to  that  supper,  and  he  asks 
us  if  we  took  the  message  to  the  people  in 
the  Lane,  what  shall  we  say  ?  I  know  what 
I  would  like  to  say." 

"  But  there  are  other  people,  besides  in  the 
Lane,"  said  Ailie. 

"  We  must  take  it  to  them  too,"  said  Mary 
Edwards. 

"  We  can't  take  it  to  everybody." 

"  No;  only  to  everybody  that  we  can"  said 
Matilda.  "  Just  think  how  glad  some  of 
those  people  will  be,  when  they  hear  it. 
What  should  we  do  if  Mr.  Richmond  had 
never  told  it  to  us  ?  " 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  2O1 

Ailie  bit  her  lip.  Whether  by  design  or 
not,  Mary  Edwards  turned  to  her  Testament 
and  read  the  next  words  that  followed  in 
course. 

"  And  there  went  great  multitudes  with 
him :  and  he  turned,  and  said  unto  them,  If 
any  man  come  to  me,  and  hate  not  his  father, 
and  mother,  and  wife,  and  children,  and 
brethren,  and  sisters,  yea,  and  his  own  life 
also,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple." 

And  seeing  Mr.  Ulshoeffer  coming  to  open 
the  door,  the  little  conclave  broke  up.  The 
children  and  teachers  came  pouring  in  for  the 
Sunday  school. 

Going  out  after  it  was  over,  Matilda  noticed 
a  face  she  had  not  seen ;  a  boy  older  than 
herself,  but  not  very  old,  standing  near  the 
door,  looking  at  the  small  crowd  that  trooped 
along  the  aisle.  The  thought  came  to  Ma- 
tilda that  he  was  a  new  scholar,  and  if  so 
somebody  ought  to  welcome  him ;  but  no- 
body did,  that  she  could  see.  He  stood  alone, 
looking  at  the  people  as  if  they  were  strange 


202  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

to  him  ;  with  a  good,  bright,  wide-awake  face, 
handsome  and  bold.  Matilda  did  not  want 
to  take  the  welcoming  upon  herself,  but  she 
thought  somebody  should  do  it;  and  the 
next  minute  she  had  paused  in  front  of  the 
stranger. 

"  Is  this  the  first  time  you  have  been 
here  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  kind  of  shy  grace. 
The  boy's  bright  eyes  came  down  to  her  with 
a  look  of  surprise,  as  he  assented. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  in  our  Sunday 
school,"  she  went  on.  "  I  hope  it  was  pleas- 
ant." 

"  It  was  pleasant  enough,"  said  the  stran- 
ger. "  There  is  a  jolly  fellow  over  there 
asked  me  to  come  —  Ben  Barth ;  are  you  his 
sister  ?  " 

"  O  no,"  said  Matilda.  "  Ben  has  his  own 
sisters.  I  am  not  one  of  them." 

"  I  thought  maybe  he  told  you  to  speak  to 
me." 

"  Nobody  told  me,"  said  Matilda.  By  this 
time  they  had  followed  the  crowd  out  at  the 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  203 

door  and  were  taking  their  way  down  the 
street. 

"  "What  did  you  speak  to  me  then,  for  ?  '* 
said  the  boy  with  a  roguish  look  at  her. 

u  I  thought  you  were  a  stranger." 

"  And  what  if  I  was  ?  " 

"  I  think,  if  you  are  a  stranger  anywhere, 
it  is  pleasant  to  have  somebody  speak  to 
you." 

"  You're  a  Brick !  "  was  the  stranger's  con- 
clusion. 

"  Am  I  ?  "  said  Matilda.     "  Why  am  I  ?  " 

"  You're  a  girl,  I  suppose,  and  don't  under- 
stand things,"  said  her  companion.  "Boys 
know  what  a  Brick  is  —  when  they  see  it." 

«  Why,  so  do  I,"  said  Matilda,  «  don't  I  ?  " 

But  the  boy  only  laughed,  and  then  asked 
Matilda  where  she  lived,  and  if  she  had  any 
brothers,  and  where  she  went  to  school. 

"  I  go  to  the  other  school,  you  see,"  said 
he ;  "  that's  how  I've  never  seen  you  before. 
I  wish  you  went  to  my  school ;  and  I'd  give 
you  a  ride  on  my  sled." 


204  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

"But  you'll  come  to  our  Sunday  school, 
won't  you  ?  "  Matilda  asked. 

"  To  be  sure  I  will ;  but  you  see,  I  can't  take 
you  on  my  sled  on  Sunday.  They'd  have  all 
the  ministers  out  after  me." 

"  O,  no !  "  said  Matilda.  "  I  was  not  think- 
ing of  the  sled  ;  but  you  are  very  kind." 

"  I  should  like  it,"  said  the  boy.  "  Yes,  I 
am  coming  to  the  school  —  though  I  guess 
I've  got  an  old  fogy  of  a  teacher.  But  the 
minister's  a  Brick  —  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  He  isn't  much  like  me"  said  Matilda 
laughing.  "  And  the  sort  of  bricks  that  I 
know,  one  is  very  much  like  another." 

The  boy  laughed  too,  and  asked  if  she 
didn't  want  to  know  his  name?  Matilda 
glanced  again  at  the  frank  face  and  nice  dress, 
and  said  yes. 

"  My  name's  Norton  Laval.  What's 
yours  ?  " 

"  Matilda  Englefield.  I  am  going  this 
way." 

"  Yes,  you  go  that  way  and  I  go  this  way  , 


"  WHA  T  SHE   COULD?  205 

but  we  shall  see  each  other  again.  Good 
bye." 

So  at  the  corner  they  parted ;  and  Matilda 
went  home,  thinking  that  in  this  instance  at 
least  the  welcoming  of  strangers  had  paid  well. 
For  this  was  a  pleasant  new  acquaintance, 
she  was  sure.  She  mounted  the  stairs  with 
happy  feet  to  her  room  ;  and  there  found 
Maria  in  a  flood  of  tears.  Maria  had  staid 
at  home  from  Sunday  school  to-day. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Maria?"  her  little 
sister  inquired.  "  How's  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know !  O,  nothing  will  ever  be 
well  again!  O  Tilly,  what  will  become  of 
us!" 

And  here  a  storm  of  sobs  and  tears  came 
on,  in  the  midst  of  which  Matilda's  questions 
could  get  no  attention.  Matilda  knew  her 
sister,  however,  and  waited. 

«  O  Tilly  —  it's  so  dreadful ! " 

"  What  ?  "  said  Matilda  calmly. 

"  We  haven't  got  anything  to  live  upon. 
Anne  and  Letty  have  been  telling  me.  We 


206  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

haven't.  We  are  going  to  be  as  poor  as  —  as 
poor  as  anybody.  We  have  got  nothing  to 
buy  anything  with  —  nothing  at  all!  Anne 
says  so." 

"  Did  mamma  say  so  ?  " 

"  Mother's  sick.  No,  aunt  Candy  told  the 
girls.  It's  true.  Somebody  or  something 
that  had  mamma's  money  —  to  take  care  of 
—  has  gone  off,  or  been  ruined,  or  something; 
and  we  are  ruined!  There  is  nothing  left  at 
all  for  us  to  live  upon.  And  that  is  what  has 
been  troubling  mamma  all  these  weeks  ;  and 
now  it  is  certain  and  she  knows  all  about  it; 
and  I  guess  it  is  that  has  made  her  sick.  O, 
what  shall  we  do  ?  " 

The  turn  of  Matilda's  head  was  inimitable 
and  indescribable.  It  was  not  arrogance  or 
affectation ;  it  was  perfectly  natural  to  the 
child  ;  but  to  a  bystander  it  would  have  signi- 
fied that  she  was  aware  Maria's  views  and 
statements  were  not  to  be  relied  upon  and 
could  not  be  made  the  basis  of  either  opinion 
or  action.  She  took  off  her  things,  and  with- 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  207 

out  another  word  made  her  way  to  the  room 
of  her  elder  sisters.  They  were  both  sitting 
there  gloomily. 

"  How  is  mamma  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  haven't  seen  her  since 
dinner." 

It  was  with  a  little  of  the  same  half  grace- 
ful, half  competent  gesture  of  the  head  that 
Matilda  applied  herself  to  Letitia. 

"  What  is  all  this  story,  Letty,  that  Maria 
has  been  telling  me  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  Maria  tells  a  great 
many  stories." 

"  I  mean,  about  what  has  been  troubling 
mamma." 

"  Maria  had  no  business  to  tell  you,  and  so 
trouble  you  with  it." 

"  But  is  it  true,  Letty  ?     Anne,  is  it  true  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  is  true  —  if  you  mean  what 
she  heard  from  me  a  little  while  ago.  That 
is  true." 

"  And  mamma  has  lost  all  her  monev  ?  " 

"  Every  cent." 


208  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  When  did  you  know  it,  Anne  and 
Letty  ?  " 

"  We  have  known  it  a  day  or  two.  It  is 
true.  It  is  all  true,  Tilly." 

"  What  is  mamma  going  to  do,  then  ?  " 

"  Get  well,  I  hope.  That  is  the  first  thing. 
Aunt  Candy  says  she  will  pay  for  her  board 
and  Clarissa's,  and  mamma  and  you  can  live 
on  that.  Letty  and  I  must  go  get  our  living 
—  somehow." 

And  here  Anne  broke  down.  Matilda 
wanted  to  ask  about  Maria's  fate  in  the  gen- 
eral falling  to  pieces  of  the  family ;  but  her 
throat  felt  so  full,  she  was  afraid  she  could 
not.  So  she  did  not  try ;  she  turned  and 
went  downstairs  to  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Englefield  was  dozing,  flushed  and 
uneasy ;  she  hardly  noticed  who  was  with  her, 
but  asked  for  water,  and  then  for  cologne 
water.  Matilda  brought  the  one  and  the 
other,  and  sat  by  the  bedside  wiping  her 
mother's  brow  and  cheeks  with  the  cologne. 
Nobody  came  to  interrupt  or  relieve  her  for 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  209 

some  time.  The  light  of  the  afternoon  began 
to  fade  and  the  sunbeams  came  aslant  from, 
the  western  sky ;  and  still  the  child  sat  there 
passing  the  handkerchief  gently  over  her 
mother's  face.  And  while  she  sat  so,  Matilda 
was  thinking  what  possible  ways  there  might 
be  by  which  she  could  make  money. 

"  Tilly,  is  that  you  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Englefield 
faintly  as  the  sunbeams  were  just  quitting  the 
room. 

"  Yes,  mamma.     Are  you  better?  " 

"  Is  there  no  one  else  here  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma.  Aunt  Candy  is  out ;  and 
I  suppose  the  girls  thought  you  were  sleeping. 
Are  you  better,  mamma?  You  have  had  a 
nice  long  nap." 

"  It's  been  horrid ! "  said  Mrs.  Englefield. 
"  I  have  dreamed  of  every  possible  dreadful 
thing." 

"  But  you  feel  better  now  ?  " 

"  My  head  aches  —  no  —  O  my  head ! 
Tilly"  — 

«  What,  mamma  ?  " 

14 


210  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"I  am  going  to  be  sick.  I  sha'n't  be  about 
again  for  a  while,  I  know.  I  want  you  to  do 
just  what  I  tell  you." 

"  Yes,  mamma.     What  ?  " 

"  Anne  and  Letty  are  going  away." 

"  Yes,  mamma.     I  know." 

"  Do  you  know  why,  dear?" 

The  tone  of  tender,  sorrowful  sympathy  in 
which  this  was  said,  overcame  the  child.  As 
her  mother's  eyes  with  the  question  languidly 
sought  her  face,  Matilda  burst  into  tears  and 
threw  herself  upon  her  neck. 

«  No,  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Englefield  faintly,  — 
«  I  can't  bear  it.  Don't,  Matilda  !  Rise  up 
and  listen  to  me." 

Matilda  did  as  she  was  told.  She  forced 
back  her  tears ;  stopped  her  sobs ;  dashed 
away  the  drops  from  the  corners  of  her  eyes ; 
and  sat  up  again  to  hear  what  her  mother  had 
to  say  to  her. 

"Give  rne  some  more  water  first.  —  Anne 
and  Letty  are  going  away,  Tilly ;  and  I  can- 
not be  up  and  see  to  anything ;  and  I  can't 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  211 

hire  a  woman  to  do  what's  to  be  done.  You 
tell  Maria,  from  me,  she  must  stay  home  from 
school  and  take  care  of  the  house.  You  will 
do  what  you  can,  Tilly  — oh,  my  head !  —  you 
can  put  rooms  in  order  and  such  things ;  and 
Maria  must  go  down  into  the  kitchen  and  get 
the  breakfast  —  " 

"  Must  Maria  get  the  dinner  too,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  dinner  —  " 

"  But  can  she,  mamma  ?  " 

"  She  must ;  or  else  your  aunt  Candy  will 
hire  somebody  to  do  it ;  and  that  will  come 
out  of  what  she  pays  me,  and  we  shall  not 
have  enough  left.  She  must,  Tilly." 

"  But  aunt  Candy  wouldn't  mind,  just  while 
you  are  sick,  mamma,  would  she?" 

"  Yes  !  I  know.  Just  you  do  as  I  tell  you ; 
promise  me  that  you  will." 

"  I  will,  mamma." 

"  Promise  me  that  Maria  will." 

"  I  guess  she  will,  mamma.  I'll  try  and  make 
her.  Shall  1  bring  her  here,  and  you  tell  her 
yourself  ?  " 


212  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

"  No,  indeed.  Don't  bring  Maria  here. 
She  would  make  such  a  row  she  would  kill 
me.  Anne  and  Letty  will  see  to  things,  till 
they  go  —  O,  I  can't  talk  any  longer.  Give 
me  some  more  water." 

She  was  presently  dozing  again ;  and  Ma- 
tilda, clasping  her  small  hands,  sat  and 
thought  over  what  was  before  her.  It  began 
to  feel  like  a  weight  on  her  somewhere  —  on 
her  shoulders,  she  thought,  and  lying  on  her 
heart  too ;  and  the  longer  she  thought  about 
it,  the  heavier  and  harder  it  pressed.  The 
family  to  be  broken  up;  her  mother  to  be 
straitened  for  money ;  Matilda  did  not  know 
very  well  what  that  meant,  but  it  sounded 
disagreeable;  her  aunt  suddenly  presented  in 
new  and  not  pleasant  colours ;  a  general  threat- 
ening cloud  overshadowing  all  the  future.  Ma- 
tilda began  to  get,  what  her  strong  little 
heart  was  not  accustomed  to,  a  feeling  of  real 
discouragement.  What  could  she  do  ?  And 
then  a  word  of  the  afternoon's  lesson  in  the 
Sunday  school  came  freshly  to  mind.  It  had 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  213 

Deen  quite  new  to  Matilda,  and  had  seemed 
to  her  very  beautiful ;  but  it  took  on  quite  an- 
other sort  of  beauty  now,  —  "  Cast  thy  burden 
upon  the  Lord ;  he  shall  sustain  thee." 

«  Will  he  ?  "  thought  Matilda.  "  Can  he  ? 
May  I  tell  him  about  all  this?  and  will  he 
help  me  to  bear  it,  and  help  me  to  do  all  that 
work,  and  to  make  Maria  do  hers  ?  But  he 
will,  for  he  has  said  so" 

It  was  getting  dusk  in  the  room.  Matilda 
knelt  down  by  her  chair,  and  poured  out  all 
her  troubles  into  the  ear  that  would  heed  and 
could  help  her. 

"  Who's  here  ? "  said  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
Candy  coming  in.  "  Who  is  that  ?  Ma- 
tilda ?  How  did  you  come  here,  Tilly  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  taking  care  of  my  mother." 

"  Have  you  ?  How  is  she  ?  Well,  you  run 
downstairs — I'll  take  care  of  her  now.  It 
is  better  for  you  not  to  be  here.  Don't  come 
in  again,  unless  I  give  you  leave.  Now  you 
may  go." 

"I  wonder,  must  I  mind  her?"  said  Ma- 


214  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

tilda  to  herself.  "  I  do  not  see  why.  She 
is  not  mother;  and  if  mother  is  sick,  that 
does  not  give  everybody  else  a  right  to 
say  what  I  shall  do.  I  think  it  is  very 
queer  of  aunt  Candy  to  take  that  way  with 
me." 

And  I  am  afraid  Matilda's  head  was  car- 
ried a  little  with  the  air  which  was,  to  be 
sure,  natural  to  her,  and  not  unpretty,  and 
yet  which  spoke  of  a  good  deal  of  conscious 
competency.  It  is  no  more  than  justice  to 
Matilda  to  say  that  she  did  not  ever  put  the 
feeling  into  any  ill-mannerly  form.  It  hardly 
appeared  at  all,  except  in  this  turn  of  her  head, 
which  all  her  own  family  knew,  laughed  at, 
admired,  and  even  loved.  So  she  went  down 
stairs  to  the  parlour. 

"  How  is  aunt  Marianne  ?  "  was  the  ques- 
tion from  Clarissa.  "  Letty  told  me  where 
you  were.  But  little  one,  it  is  not  good  for 
you  to  go  into  your  mother's  sick  room  ;  you 
can  do  nothing,  and  you  are  better  out. 
So  mamma  wishes  you  not  to  go  in  there 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  215 

till  aunt  Marianne  is  better  —  you  under- 
stand?" 

"  Clarissa  too ! "  thought  Matilda  to  herself. 
But  she  made  no  answer.  She  came  by  the 
fire  to  warm  herself;  for  her  mother's  room 
had  been  cold. 

"  You  shouldn't  go  so  near  the  fire ;  you'll 
burn  your  dress,"  Clarissa  remarked. 

"  No,"  said  Matilda ;  and  she  said  but  that 
one  word. 

"  You  will  take  the  colour  out,  if  you  do 
not  set  it  on  fire ;  and  that  is  what  I  meant. 
That  is  your  best  dress,  Tilly." 

It  was  true ;  and  sorely  against  her  will 
Matilda  stepped  a  little  back. 

"  You  were  a  great  while  at  Sunday  school 
to-day,"  Clarissa  went  on. 

"  No,"  said  Matilda ;  "  not  longer  than 
usual." 

"  What  do  you  learn  there  ?  " 

"  Why,  cousin  Issa,  what  do  you  teach  at 
your  Sunday  school  ? "  said  Matilda.  For 
Clarissa  had  sheered  off  from  Mr.  Richmond's 


2l6  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

church,  and  gone  into  a  neighbouring  one 
which  belonged  to  the  denomination  in  which 
she  had  been  brought  up. 

"  That  is  not  good  manners,  to  answer  one 
question  with  another,  little  one." 

"  I  thought  one  answer  might  serve  for 
both,"  said  Matilda. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  would  not.  For  in  my  Sun- 
day school  I  teach  the  catechism." 

"  Don't  the  catechism  tell  about  Jesus  ?  " 

"  Some  things,  —  of  course." 

"  Our  lessons  tell  all  things  about  him," 
said  Matilda  ;  "  and  that  is  what  I  learn." 

"  Do  you  learn  about  yourself  ?  " 

«  What  about  myself?  " 

"  How  you  ought  to  behave,  and  how  you 
ought  not  to  behave." 

"  Why,  I  think  learning  about  Jesus  teaches 
one  that"  said  Matilda. 

"  I  think  there  is  nothing  so  good  as  com- 
ing home  to  learn  about  home,"  said  Clarissa. 

The  talk  did  not  run  in  a  way  to  please 
Matilda,  and  she  was  silent.  Presently  they 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD?  217 

were  called  down  to  tea.  Everybody  suffer- 
ing from  a  fit  of  taciturnity. 

"  Maria,  sit  up  straight,"  said  Mrs.  Candy. 

"  1  always  sit  so,"  was  the  answer. 

"  So,  is  not  very  graceful.  Matilda  does  not 
sit  so." 

"  Matilda  was  always  straight  —  it's  her 
way,"  said  Maria. 

"  Well  make  it  your  way  too.  Come ! 
Straighten  up.  What  shoulders !  One  would 
think  you  were  a  boy  playing  at  leap-frog." 

"I  don't  know  what  'leap-frog'  is,"  said 
Maria  colouring ;  "  and  I  don't  think  anybody 
would  think  I  was  anything  but  a  girl  any- 
how. I  get  tired  sitting  up  straight." 

«  When  ?  "  asked  Clarissa. 

Matilda's  head  was  quite  indescribable  in 
the  turn  it  gave  at  this  moment.  Her  supper 
was  done ;  she  was  leaving  the  table. 

"  You  are  not  going  into  your  mother's 
room  ?  "  said  her  aunt,  catching  her  hand  as 
she  passed. 

"  You  said  you  wished  I  would  not." 


2 1 8  "  WHA  T  SHE   COULD? 

"  Yes,  my  dear.  I  am  going  up  there  im- 
mediately. Don't  go  out  either,  Matilda." 

"  I  am  going  to  church,  aunt  Candy." 

"  I  think  not.  Not  to-night.  I  do  not  ap- 
prove of  so  much  church  going  for  little  girls. 
You  can  study  your  lesson,  you  know,  for 
next  Sunday.  I  do  not  want  to  have  any- 
body else  sick  on  my  hands  till  your  mother 
is  well." 

Matilda's  face  expressed  none  of  her  disap- 
pointment ;  her  head  was  even  carried  a  little 
higher  than  usual  as  she  left  the  room.  But 
outside  the  door  her  steps  flagged ;  and  she 
went  slowly  up  the  stairs,  asking  herself  if  she 
wa?  bound  to  mind  what  her  aunt  said.  She. 
was  not  clear  about  it.  In  the  abstract,  Ma- 
tilda was  well  enough  disposed  to  obey  all 
lawful  authority;  just  now  a  spirit  of  opposi- 
tion had  risen.  Was  this  lawful  authority? 
Mrs.  Englefield  was  sick,  to  be  sure ;  but  did 
that  give  Mrs.  Candy  any  right  to  interfere 
with  what  was  known  to  be  Mrs.  Englefield's 
will  when  she  was  not  sick  1  Matilda  thought 


"  WHA  T  SHE   COULD."  2  1 9 

not.  Then,  on  the  other  hand,  she  did  not 
wish  to  do  anything  to  displease  her  aunt, 
who  had  always  been  kind  to  her;  she  did  not 
wish  to  change  the  relations  between  them. 
Slowly  Matilda  mounted  stair  after  stair  till 
she  got  to  her  room.  There  she  stood  by  the 
window  a  moment,  thinking  and  sorrowing ; 
for  if  she  did  not  wish  to  anger  her  aunt, 
neither  did  she  wish  to  lose  her  evening  in 
church,  her  sight  of  Mr.  Richmond,  and  his 
sermon.  And  just  then,  the  clear  sweet  sound 
of  the  church  bell  came,  with  its  first  note,  to 
tell  that  the  service  would  begin  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour.  It  sounded  like  a  friend's  voice 
calling  her.  Her  aunt  Candy's  church  bell 
joined  in,  and  Mr.  Everett's  church,  and  Mr. 
Schonflocker's  church  ;  but  that  one  which 
Mr.  Ulshoeffer  rang  was  the  loudest  of  all  to 
Matilda's  ear.  She  could  hardly  stand  it. 
Then  Maria  burst  in. 

"  "What  are  you  going  to  do?"  said  Matilda. 

"  Do  ?  Why,  I  am  going  to  church,  of 
course ;  and  in  a  hurry." 


220  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

«  And  Anne  and  Letty  ?  " 
"  Certainly ;  and  Issa  too." 
Matilda  said  no  more,  but  hastily  made  her« 
self  ready,  and  went  down  with  the  rest. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A  NNE  and  Letitia  were  to  leave  home  in 
the  afternoon  of  Monday;  and  Maria 
and  Matilda  went  to  school  that  morning  as 
usual.  But  when  the  noon  hour  came,  Ma- 
tilda called  her  sister  into  a  corner  of  the  emp- 
tied schoolroom,  and  sat  down  with  a  face  of 
business. 

"  What  is  the  matter? "  said  Maria.  "  We 
must  go  home  to  dinner." 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you  here  first." 

"  About  what  ?  Say  it  and  be  quick  ;  for 
I  am  ever  so  hungry.  Aunt  Candy  cut  my 
breakfast  short  this  morning." 

"  I  wanted  to  say  to  you,  that  we  had  bet- 
ter take  home  our  books." 

"What  for?"  said  Maria  with  opening 
eyes. 


222  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

"  Because,  Maria,  mamma  was  talking  to 
me  last  night  about  it.  You  know  there  will 
be  no  one  at  home  now,  after  to-day,  but  you 
and  me." 

"  Aunt  Erminia  and  Clarissa  ?  " 

"  Nobody  to  do  anything,  I  mean." 

"  Can't  they  do  anything?  I  don't  know 
what  you  are  talking  of,  Matilda;  but  I  know 
I  want  my  dinner." 

"  Who  do  you  think  will  get  dinner  to- 
morrow ?  " 

"  Well  —  mother's  sick  of  course ;  and  Anne 
and  Letty  are  going.  I  should  think  aunt 
Candy  might." 

"  No,  she  won't." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Because  mother  said  so.  She  won't  do 
anything." 

"  Then  she'll  have  to  get  a  girl  to  do  things, 
I  suppose." 

"  But  Maria,  that  is  just  what  mother  wants 
she  shouldn't  do ;  because  she'd  have  to  pay 
for  it." 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  223 

"  Who  would  have  to  pay  for  it?" 

"  Mamma." 

"  Why  would  she  ?  " 

"  She  said  so." 

"  I  don't  see  why  she  would,  I  am  sure. 
If  aunt  Erminia  hires  a  girl,  she'll  pay  for 
her." 

"  But  that  will  come  out  of  what  aunt  Er- 
minia pays  to  mamma ;  and  what  aunt 
Erminia  pays  to  mamma  is  what  we  have  got 
to  live  upon." 

"Who  said  so?" 

"  Mamma  said  so."  Matilda  answered  with 
her  lip  trembling;  for  the  bringing  facts  all 
down  to  hard  detail,  was  difficult  to  bear. 

«  Well  I  do  think,"  exclaimed  Maria,  "  if  I 
had  a  sister  sick  and  not  able  to  help  herself, 
I  would  not  be  so  mean ! " 

Matilda  sat  still  and  cried  and  said  noth- 
ing. 

"  Who  is  going  to  do  all  the  work  then, 
Tilly  ?  " 

There  would  have  been  something  comical, 


224  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

if  it  had  not  been  sad,  in  the  way  the  little 
girl  looked  up  and  said,  "  You  and  I." 

"  I  guess  we  will!"  said  Maria  with  open- 
ing eyes.  "  You  and  I !  Take  care  of  the 
house,  and  wash  the  dishes,  and  cook  the  din- 
ner, and  everything!  You  know  we  couldn't, 
Matilda;  and  what's  more,  7  know  we 
won't." 

"  Yes,  mamma  wishes  it.  We  must ;  and 
so  we  can,  Maria." 

"  /  can't,"  said  Maria,  taking  down  her 
school  cloak. 

"  But  Maria !  we  must.  Marnma  will  be 
more  sick  if  we  do  not ;  you  heard  what  aunt 
Candy  said  at  breakfast,  that  she  is  fearfully 
nervous;  and  if  she  hears  that  there  is  a 
hired  girl  in  the  house,  it  will  worry  her  dread- 
fully." 

"  It  will  be  aunt  Candy's  fault  then,"  said 
Maria,  fastening  her  cloak.  "  I  never  heard 
of  anybody  so  mean  in  all  my  life!  —  never." 

"  But  that  don't  help  anything,  Maria. 
And  you  and  I  must  do  what  mamma  said. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  22$ 

You  know  we  shall  have  little  enough  to 
live  on,  as  it  is,  and  if  you  take  the  pay  of 
a  hired  girl  out  of  it,  there  will  be  so  little 
left." 

"  I've  got  my  twenty-five  dollars,  that  I  can 
get  summer  dresses  with  ;  I  am  glad  I  haven't 
spent  it,"  said  Maria.  "  Corne,  Tilly ;  I'm 
going  home." 

"  But  Maria,  you  have  not  said  what  you 
ought  to  say  yet." 

«  What  ought  I  to  say  ?  " 

"  I  will  help  and  do  my  part.  We  can 
manage  it.  Come,  Maria,  say  that  you 
will." 

"  Your  part,"  said  Maria.  "  What  do  you 
suppose  your  part  would  come  to  ?  What 
can  such  a  child  as  you  do  ?  " 

"  Maria,  now  is  the  time  to  shew  whether 
you  are  really  one  of  the  Band  of  workers." 

"  I  am,  of  course.     I  joined  it." 

"  That  would  not  make  you  one  of  them, 
if  you  don't  do  what  they  promised  to  do." 

"When  did  I  ever  promise  to  be  aunt 
16 


226  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

Candy's  servant   girl  ?  "  said    Maria  fiercely 
«  I  should  like  to  know." 

«  But '  we  are  the  servants  of  Christ,' "  said 
Matilda  softly,  her  eyes   glistening   through 


«  What  then?" 

"  We  promised  to  try  to  do  whatever  would 
honour  him." 

"  I  don't  know  what  all  this  affair  has  to 
do  with  it,"  said  Maria.  "  You  say  we 
promised  ;  —  you  didn't  ?  " 

«  Yes,  I  did." 

"  You  didn't  join  the  Band  ?  " 

»  Yes,  I  did." 

"When?" 

"  A  few  days  after  you  did." 

«  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  Did  you  tell 
Mr.  Richmond?" 

«  Yes." 

"  I  think  it  is  mean,  that  you  did  not  tell 
me." 

"  I  am  telling  you  now.  But  now,  Maria, 
you  know  what  you  promised." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  227 

"  I  did  not  promise  this  sort  of  thing  at  all, 
Tilly." 

"  Yes,  don't  you  know  ?  — '  we  stand  ready 
to  do  his  will.'  That's  in  the  covenant." 

"  But  this  is  not  his  will,"  insisted  Maria. 
"  This  is  aunt  Erminia's  meanness." 

"  But  it  certainly  is  his  will  that  we  should 
do  what  mamma  says,  and  please  her ;  and 
this  is  the  work  he  has  given  us  to  do." 

Maria's  answer  this  time  was  to  sit  down 
and  cry  for  her  part.  Matilda  did  not  join 
her,  but  stood  by,  patiently  waiting.  Maria 
cried  and  sobbed  for  several  minutes;  then 
she  started  up  and  set  off  homewards  at  a 
furious  rate.  Matilda  gathered  together  her 
books  and  followed  her  sister;  trying  to  com- 
fort herself  with  the  thought  that  this  was 
certainly  the  work  given  them  to  do,  and  that 
she  would  try  and  make  the  best  of  it. 

The  dinner  was  sorrowful  enough.  Maria 
indeed  eat  it  as  if  remembering  it  was  the 
last  dinner  for  some  time  to  come  that  she 
would  find  ready  prepared  for  her.  But 


228  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

Anne  and  Letty  were  broken  down  with 
grief ;  and  Mrs.  Candy's  endeavours  to  com- 
fort them  were  either  not  the  right  sort,  or 
fell  upon  unready  ears.  Clarissa  was  com- 
posed as  usual. 

"  You  were  late  from  school,  Maria  and 
Matilda,"  their  aunt  remarked ;  finding  Anne 
and  Letty  unmanageable.  "  What  was  the 
reason  ?  " 

"  Tilly  was  talking  to  me,"  Maria 
said. 

"  You  could  talk  on  the  way  home,  I  should 
think.  I  dislike  to  have  dinner  eaten  by 
stages  ;  first  one  set  coming,  and  then  another. 
I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  be  punctual  for  the 
future.  Do  not  be  in  a  hurry,  Maria ;  there 
is  time  enough,  now  you  are  here,  to  eat 
moderately." 

"  I  am  hungry.  I  don't  want  to  eat 
moderately,  aunt  Erminia." 

"  As  much  as  you  wish  ;  but  you  can  be 
moderate  in  manner,  cannot  you,  even  if  not 
in  quantity  ?  " 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  229 

"  Nobody  ever  told  me  I  eat  too  much,  be- 
fore," said  Maria. 

"  There  are  a  great  many  things  that  you 
have  never  been  told,  I  suppose  ? "  said 
Clarissa,  lifting  her  handsome  eyes  quietly. 

"  I  don't  care  about  your  telling  me  either," 
said  Maria. 

"  My  dear,  that  is  not  polite,"  interposed 
her  aunt.  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  you  speak  so. 
Would  you  not  like  to  have  Issa,  or  any 
one,  tell  you  things  that  you  would  be  the 
better  for  ?  You  would  not  wish  to  remain 
just  as  you  are,  to  the  end  of  your  days?  " 

"  It  don't  hurt  anybody  but  me,"  said 
Maria. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Everything  that  is 
not  graceful  and  well-mannered,  on  the  part 
of  people  in  whose  company  we  are,  hurts  me 
and  Clarissa.  It  hurts  me  to  have  you  bolt 
down  your  food  as  you  were  doing  just  now 
—  if  I  am  sitting  at  the  same  table  with  you 
And  it  hurts  me  to  have  you  speak  rudely. 
I  hope  you  will  mend  in  all  these  things." 


230  "WHAT  SHE  COULD?' 

"It  will  not  hurt  you  to  have  us  say 
good-bye,"  sa5d  Anne  rising.  "  I  will  do 
that  now,  if  you  please.  Letty,  I  will  leave 
you  to  take  care  of  these  things,  and  I 
will  finish  the  packing.  We  must  be  quick, 
too." 

The  farewell  greetings  with  her  aunt  and 
cousin  were  soon  spoken ;  and  Maria  and  Ma- 
tilda tore  upstairs  after  their  sister,  to  pour 
out  tears  and  complaints  together  during  the 
remaining  moments  of  her  being  at  home. 
Matilda's  tears  however  were  quiet  and  her 
words  very  few. 

"  Ain't  she  too  bad ! "  exclaimed  Maria. 

"  You  must  try  and  hold  your  own  the  best 
you  can,"  said  Anne ;  "  until  mamma  gets 
up  again.  Poor  children!  I  am  afraid  she 
will  be  too  much  for  you." 

"But,  Anne,  did  you  think  aunt  Candy 
was  like  that  ?  "  said  Maria.  "  She  wasn't 
like  that  at  first." 

"  I  guess  she  was.  All  she  wanted  was  a 
chance.  Now  she's  got  it.  Try  and  bear  it 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  231 

the  best  you  can,  till  marnma  is  well.  She 
cannot  be  worried  now." 

"Is  mamma  very  sick,  Anne?"  Matilda 
ventured. 

«  N-o,"  said  Anne,  "  but  she  might  be,  Tiliy, 
if  she  was  worried.  The  doctor  says  she  is 
very  nervous,  and  must  be  kept  quiet.  She 
has  been  worrying  so  long,  you  see.  So 
you  must  try  and  not  do  anything  to  fret 
her." 

The  prospect  was  sad.  When  the  omni- 
bus came  to  take  Anne  and  Letty  to  the  sta- 
tion, and  when  the  last  kisses  and  hugs  were 
over,  and  the  omnibus  bounced  away,  carry- 
ing with  it  all  they  had  at  the  moment,  the 
two  girls  left  at  home  felt  forlorn  enough. 
The  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to  rush  up- 
stairs to  their  room  and  cry  their  hearts  out. 
And  that  was  done  thoroughly. 

But  by  and  by,  Matilda's  thoughts,  in  their 
very  extreme  need  of  comfort,  began  to  take 
up  the  words  again  which  she  had  once  found 
so  good:  "  Cast  thy  burden  upon  the  Lord; 


232  "WHAT  SHE    COULD." 

he  shall  sustain  thee."  She  left  her  sobbing, 
dried  her  eyes,  sat  down  by  the  window,  and 
found  the  place  in  her  Bible,  that  her  eyes 
might  have  the  comfort  of  seeing  and  reading 
the  words  there.  The  Lord's  words:  Tilly 
knew  they  were  true.  But  Maria  sobbed  on. 
At  last  her  little  sister  called  her. 

"What  is  it?"  said  she. 

"  Come  here,  —  and  I  will  shew  you  some- 
thing good." 

"Good?  — what?"  said  Maria,  approach- 
ing  the  window.  "  O,  words  in  the  Bible!  " 

"  Read,  Maria." 

"  I  have  read  them  before,"  said  the  other 
sullenly,  after  she  had  glanced  at  the  place. 

"  But  they  are  true,  Maria." 

«  Well  —  they  don't  help  me." 

"But  they  help  we,"  said  Matilda.  "It's 
Jesus'  promise  to  help." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  for  such  things  as 
this." 

"Why  not?"  said  Matilda,  a  sudden  chili 
coming  over  her  heart.  "  It  says  just,  '  Cast 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  233 

thy  burden'  —  it  might  be  any  burden;  it 
does  not  signify  what  it  is,  Maria." 

"  Yes,  it  does ;  it  is  not  for  such  little 
things,"  said  Maria.  "  It  is  for  great  relig- 
ious people  and  their  affairs.  Oh  dear!  oh 
dear!" 

Sorely  troubled  now  at  having  her  supports 
knocked  away  from  under  her,  Matilda  eager- 
ly sought  further,  if  perchance  she  might  find 
something  that  Maria  could  not  question. 
Her  Bible  had  a  few  references  in  the  mar- 
gin ;  consulting  these,  she  presently  found 
what  she  had  need  of;  but  a  feeling  of  want 
of  sympathy  between  them  forbade  her  to 
shew  the  new  words  to  her  sister.  Matilda 
pored  over  them  with  great  rest  of  heart; 
gave  thanks  for  them;  and  might  have  used 
with  truth  David's  language  —  "Thy  words 
were  found,  and  I  did  eat  them."  The  words 
were  these : 

"  Be  careful  for  nothing ;  but  in  everything, 
by  prayer  and  supplication  with  thanksgiving, 
let  your  requests  be  made  known  unto  God 


234  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

And  the  peace  of  God  that  passeth  under- 
standing shall  keep  your  hearts  and  rninds 
through  Christ  Jesus." 

Matilda's  eyes  were  dry  and  her  voice  was 
clear,  when  she  reminded  her  sister  that  it 
was  time  to  get  tea.  Maria  was  accustomed 
to  do  this  frequently,  and  made  no  objection 
now.  So  the  two  went  down  together. 
Passing  the  parlour  door,  however,  it  opened, 
and  Mrs.  Candy  called  Matilda  in. 

"  I  want  to  speak  a  word  to  you,  Tilly," 
she  said.  "  Did  you  go  out  last  evening  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  did,  aunt  Erminia." 

"  You  went  to  church  ?  " 

Matilda  assented ;  but  though  she  had 
bowed  her  head,  it  seemed  to  be  more  erect 
than  before. 

"  And  I  had  told  you  not  to  go,  had  I  not? 
You  understood  that? " 

A  silent  assent  was  again  all  that  the  child 
gave. 

"  I  am  accustomed  to  be  obeyed,"  said  Mrs. 
Candy.  "  That  is  my  way.  It  may  not  be 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  235 

your  mother's  way ;  but  all  the  same,  I  am 
mistress  here  while  she  is  sick ;  mistress  over 
you  as  well  as  the  rest.  You  must  obey  me 
like  all  the  rest.  Will  you  ?  " 

What  was  meant  by  "  all  the  rest"  Matilda 
marvelled,  seeing  that  nobody  else  but  Maria 
and  her  own  daughter  were  left  in  the  house. 
This  time  she  gave  no  sign  of  answering ;  she 
only  stood  and  listened. 

"  Will  you  obey  me,  Tilly  ?  " 

Matilda  was  not  sure  whether  she  would. 
In  her  mind  it  depended  on  circumstances. 
She  would  obey,  conditionally.  But  she 
would  not  compromise  her  dignity  by  words 
about  it.  She  was  silent. 

tt  I  must  be  obeyed,"  Mrs.  Candy  went  on, 
with  mild  tones,  although  a  displeased  face. 
"  If  not  willingly,  then  unwillingly.  I  shall 
punish  you,  Matilda,  if  you  disobey  me ;  and 
so  severely  that  you  will  find  it  best  not  to  do 
it  again.  But  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  have 
you  drive  me  to  such  disagreeable  doings. 
We  should  both  be  sorry  together.  It  is 


236  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

much  oest  not  to  let  things  come  to  such 
extremity." 

Matilda  coloured  high,  but  except  that  and 
the  slight  gesture  of  her  head,  she  yet  gave  no 
reply. 

"  That  is  enough  upon  that  subject,"  the 
lady  went  on.  "  Only,  I  should  be  glad  to 
have  you  tell  me  that  you  will  try  to  please 
me." 

"  I  wish  to  please  everybody  —  as  far  as  I 
can,"  Matilda  said  at  last. 

"  Then  you  will  please  me  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so." 

"  She  hopes  so,  Issa,"  said  Mrs.  Candy, 
turning  her  head  round  towards  where  her 
daughter  sat. 

"  American  children,  mamma,"  was  Claris- 
sa's comment. 

"  There  is  another  thing,  Matilda,"  Mrs. 
Candy  resumed  after  a  slight  pause.  "  Your 
mother  has  told  me  that  Maria  is  compe- 
tent to  do  the  work  of  the  house  until 
she  gets  well.  Is  she  ?  and  will  Maria,  d» 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  237 

you  think,  try  to  please  me  as  much  as  you 
do?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  I  think  she  can  —  she  and 
I,  We  will  do  it,"  Matilda  answered  more 
readily. 

"  She  and  you !     What  can  you  do  ?  " 

«  I  can  help  a  little." 

"  Well  then,  that  is  settled ;  and  I  need  not 
look  out  for  a  girl  ?  " 

"  O,  no,  aunt  Candy.  She  and  I  can  do 
it." 

"  But  mind,  I  must  have  things  in  order, 
and  well  done.  It  is  my  sister's  choice,  that 
Maria  should  do  it.  But  it  is  not  mine,  un- 
less I  can  have  everything  in  good  order. 
You  may  tell  Maria  so,  and  let  her  under- 
stand what  it  is  she  is  undertaking.  I  am  to 
have  no  dusty  stairs,  and  no  half  set  tables. 
Tf  she  wants  instruction  in  anything,  I  am 
willing  to  give  it;  but  I  cannot  have  disorder. 
Now  you  may  go  and  tell  her ;  and  tell  her 
to  have  tea  ready  in  half  an  hour." 

«  What   did   she   want   of    you  ? "    Maria 


238  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

asked,  when  Matilda  rejoined  her  down- 
stairs. 

"  She  wanted  to  talk  to  me  about  my  going 
out  last  evening." 

"  Oh !     Was  she  in  a  great  fuss  about  it  ?  " 

"  And  Maria,  she  wants  tea  to  be  ready  in 
half  an  hour." 

"  I'll  have  it  ready  sooner  than  that,"  said 
Maria  bustling  about. 

"  But  you  must  not.  She  wants  it  in 
half  an  hour;  you  must  not  have  it  ready 
before." 

"  Why  not?"  said  Maria  stopping  short. 

"  Why,  she  wants  it  then.  She  has  a  right 
to  have  tea  when  she  likes." 

But  Matilda  sighed  as  she  spoke,  for  her 
aunt's  likings  were  becoming  a  heavy  burden 
to  her,  in  the  present  and  in  the  future.  The 
two  girls  went  gently  round,  setting  the  table, 
cutting  the  bread,  putting  out  the  sweetmeat, 
getting  the  tea-pot  ready  for  the  tea;  then 
they  stood  together  over  the  stove,  waiting  for 
the  time  to  make  it. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  239 

"  There's  one  comfort,"  Matilda  said  with 
another  sigh ;  —  "  we  can  do  it  all  for 
Christ." 

"  What  ?  "  said  Maria  starting. 

"  It  is  work  he  has  given  us  to  do,  you 
know,  Maria ;  and  we  have  promised  to  do 
everything  we  can  to  please  him.  So  we  can 
do  this  to  please  him." 

"  I  don't  see  how,"  said  Maria.  "  This  isn't 
Band  work ;  —  do  you  think  it  is  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  Sunday  school  work.  But,  Maria, 
you  know,  — '  we  are  the  servants  of  Christ.' 
Now  he  has  given  us  this  work  to  do." 

"  That's  just  talking  nonsense,"  said  Maria. 
"  There  is  no  religion  in  pots  and  kettles." 

Matilda  had  to  think  her  way  out  of  that 
statement. 

"  Maria,  in  the  covenant,  you  know,  we  say 
'  we  stand  ready  to  do  his  will ; '  and  you 
know  it  is  his  will  that  we  should  have  these 
things  to  do." 

«  I  don't !  "  said  Maria.     "  That's  a  fact." 

"  Then  how  comes  it  that  we  have  them  ?  " 


240  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"Just  because  mamma  is  sick,  and  aunt 
Erminia is  too  mean  to  live!  " 

"  You  should  not  speak  so,"  said  Matilda. 
*  How  comes  mamma  to  be  sick  ?  and  how 
comes  it  that  we  have  got  no  money  to  hire  a 
girl?" 

"  Because  that  man  in  New  York  was 
wicked,  and  ran  away  with  mamma's  mon- 
ey." 

"  Maria,"  said  Matilda  solemnly,  "  I  don't 
see  what  you  meant  by  joining  the  Band." 

"  I  meant  more  than  you  did ! "  said  Maria 
flaming  out.  "  Such  children  as  you  are  too 
young  to  join  it." 

"  We  are  not  too  young  to  be  Christians." 

"  You  are  too  young  to  join  the  church  and 
be  baptized." 

«  Why  ?  "  said  Matilda. 

"  O,  you  are  too  young  to  understand.  Any- 
body that  knows  will  tell  you  so.  And  if 
you  are  not  fit  to  be  baptized  and  join  the 
church,  you  are  not  fit  to  join  the  Band.  Now 
I  can  make  the  tea." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  241 

Matilda  looked  hard  at  the  tea-pot,  as  it 
stood  on  the  stove  while  the  tea  was  brewing ; 
but  she  let  her  sister  alone  after  that.  When 
the  meal  was  over  and  the  dishes  washed  and 
everything  done,  she  and  Maria  went  up  to 
their  own  room  and  Maria  at  once  went  to 
bed.  Her  little  sister  opened  her  Bible  and 
read,  over  and  over,  the  words  that  had  com- 
forted her.  They  were  words  from  God ; 
promises  and  commands  straight  from  heaven. 
Matilda  took  them  so,  and  studied  earnestly 
how  she  might  do  what  they  bade  her.  "  Cast 
her  burden  on  the  Lord,"  —  how  was  she  to 
do  that  ?  Clearly,  she  was  not  to  keep  it  on 
her  own  heart,  she  thought ;  she  must  trust 
that  the  Lord  would  take  care  of  anything 
put  into  his  hands.  The  words  were  very 
good.  And  the  other  words  "  Be  careful  for 
nothing"  —  that  was  the  same  thing  differ- 
ently expressed ;  and  Matilda  felt  very  glad  it 
had  been  written  for  her  in  both  places  and 
in  both  ways  ;  and  that  she  was  ordered  "  in 
everything "  to  "  make  her  requests  known 
16 


242  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

to  God."  She  might  not  have  dared,  per- 
haps, in  some  little  troubles  that  only  con- 
cerned a  child  and  were  not  important  to 
anybody  else ;  but  now  there  could  be  no 
doubt;  she  might,  and  she  must.  She  was 
very  glad.  But,  "  with  thanksgiving  ?  "  —  how 
could  that  be  always  ?  Now,  for  instance  ? 
Things  were  more  disagreeable  and  sorrowful 
than  in  all  her  life  she  had  ever  known  them ; 
"  give  thanks  "  ?  must  she  ?  now  ?  And  how 
could  she  ?  Matilda  studied  over  it  a  good 
while.  Finally  took  to  praying  over  it. 
Asked  to  be  taught  how  she  could  give 
thanks  when  she  was  sorry.  And  getting 
quite  tired,  at  last  went  to  bed,  where  Maria 
was  already  fast  asleep. 

There  is  no  denying  that  Matilda  was  sorry 
to  wake  up  the  next  morning.  But  awake 
she  found  herself,  and  broad  awake  too,  and 
the  light  outside  the  window  admonished  her 
she  had  no  time  then  to  lie  and  think.  She 
roused  Maria  immediately,  and  herself  began 
dressing  without  a  moment's  delay. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  243 

"  0,  what's  the  hurry  !  "  said  Maria  yawn- 
ing and  stretching  herself.  "  I'm  sleepy." 

"  But  it  isn't  early,  Maria." 

"  Well  —  I  don't  want  it  to  be  early." 

"  Yes,  you  do,  Maria ;  you  forget.  We  have 
a  great  deal  on  our  hands.  Make  haste, 
please,  and  get  up.  Do,  Maria  !  " 

"  What  have  we  got  to  do  so  much  ?  "  said 
Maria,  with  yawn  the  second. 

"  Everything.  You  are  so  sleepy,  you  have 
forgotten." 

"  Yes.  I  have  forgotten,"  said  Maria  clos- 
ing her  eyes. 

"  O  Maria,  please  do  get  up  !  I'm  almost 
dressed ;  and  I  can't  do  the  whole,  you  know. 
Won't  you  get  up  ?  " 

«  What's  the  matter,  Tilly  ?  "  said  her  sis- 
ter, rolling  over,  and  opening  her  eyes  quietly 
at  Matilda. 

"  I  am  going  down,  Maria,  in  two  minutes  ; 
and  I  cannot  do  everything,  you  know." 

"Clarissa '11  help." 

"  If  you  expect  that,  Maria,  you  will  be  dis- 


244  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

appointed.  I  wish  you  would  come  right 
down  and  make  the  fire." 

Maria  lay  still.  Matilda  finished  her  dress- 
ing, and  then  knelt  down  by  the  window. 

The  burden  upon  her  seemed  rather  heavy, 
and  she  went  to  her  only  source  of  help. 
Maria  lay  and  looked  at  the  little  kneeling 
figure,  so  still  there  by  the  window ;  glanced 
at  the  growing  light  outside  the  window,  then 
at  her  scattered  articles  of  clothing,  lying 
where  she  had  thrown  them  or  dropped  them 
last  night ;  and  at  last  rolled  herself  out  of 
bed  and  was  dressing  in  earnest  when  Matilda 
rose  up  to  go  downstairs. 

"  O  now  you'll  soon  be  ready ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Make  haste,  Maria ;  and  come 
down  to  the  kitchen.  The  fire  is  the  first 
thing." 

Then  the  little  feet  went  with  a  light  tread 
down  the  stairs,  that  she  might  disturb  no- 
body, and  paused  in  the  hall.  The  light 
struggling  in  through  the  fanlights  over  the 
door  ;  the  air  close  ;  a  smell  of  kerosene  in  the 


"  WHA  T  SHE   COULD"  245 

parlour;  chairs  and  table  in  a  state  of  dis- 
arrangement ;  the  litter  of  Clarissa's  work  on 
the  carpet ;  the  parlour  stove  cold.  Little 
Matilda  wished  to  herself  that  some  other 
hands  were  there,  not  hers,  to  do  all  that  must 
be  done.  But  clearly  Maria  would  never  get 
through  with  it.  She  stood  looking  a  minute ; 
then  plunged  into  the  work.  She  opened  the 
shutters  and  the  curtains,  and  threw  up  the 
windows.  Then  picked  up  the  litter.  Then 
she  saw  that  the  services  of  a  broom  were 
needed  ;  and  Matilda  fetched  the  broom  and 
brushed  out  the  parlour  and  the  hall.  It  tired 
her  arms ;  she  was  not  used  to  it.  Dusting 
the  furniture  was  more  in  her  line ;  and  then 
Matilda  came  to  the  conclusion  that  if  a  fire 
was  to  be  kindled  in  time  this  morning,  it 
must  be  done  by  herself;  Maria  would  be 
fully  occupied  in  the  kitchen.  So  downstairs 
she  went  for  billets  of  wood  for  kindling. 
There  was  Maria,  in  trouble. 

"  This  stove  won't  draw,  Tilly." 

«  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 


246  "  WHA  r  SHE   COULD? 

«  Why  that.  It  won't  draw.  It  just 
smokes." 

"  It  always  does  draw,  Maria." 

"  Well,  it  won't  to-day." 

"  Did  you  put  kindling  enough  in  ?  " 

"  There's  nothing  but  kindling!  —  and 
smoke." 

"  Why,  you've  got  the  damper  turned,"  said 
Matilda,  coming  up  to  look  ;  "  see,  that's  the 
matter.  It  won't  light  with  the  damper 
turned." 

"  Stupid !  "  Maria  muttered  ;  and  Matilda 
went  off  to  make  her  own  fire.  Happily 
that  did  not  smoke.  The  parlour  and  hall 
were  all  in  nice  order ;  the  books  put  in  place, 
and  everything  ready  for  the  comfort  of  peo- 
ple when  they  should  come  to  enjoy  it;  and 
Matilda  went  to  join  her  sister  in  the  kitchen. 
The  fire  was  going  there  too,  and  the  kitchen 
warm,  and  Maria  stood  with  her  hands  folded, 
in  front  of  the  stove. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  get  for  breakfast," 
she  said. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  247 

"  Is  the  other  room  ready  ?  " 

"  T  set  the  table,"  said  Maria;  "  but  what 
is  to  go  on  it,  I  don't  know." 

Matilda  went  in  to  look  at  the  state  of 
things  ;  presently  called  her  sister. 

"  Maria,  you  didn't  sweep  the  carpet." 

"  No.  Of  course  I  didn't.  Rooms  don't 
want  to  be  swept  every  day." 

"  This  one  does.  Look  at  the  muss  under 
the  table." 

"  Only  some  crumbs  "  —  said  Maria. 

"  And  a  bone.  Letty  was  in  a  hurry  yes- 
terday, I  guess.  Aunt  Candy  won't  like  it, 
Maria  ;  it  won't  do." 

"  I  don't  care  whether  she  likes  it." 

"  But  don't  you  care  whether  she  scolds  ? 
because  I  do.  And  the  room  is  not  nice, 
Maria.  Mother  wouldn't  have  it  so." 

"  Well,  you  may  sweep  it,  if  you  like." 

"  I  cannot.  I  am  tired.  You  must  make 
it  nice,  Maria,  won't  you  ?  and  I'll  see  about 
the  breakfast." 

"  The  table's  all  set !  "  Maria  remonstrated. 


248  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

"  It  won't  take  long  to  do  it  over,  Maria. 
But  what  have  we  got  for  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Nothing—  that  I  know." 

"  Did  you  look  in  the  cellar  ?  " 

«No.» 

"  Why,  where  did  you  look  ?  "  said  Matilda 
laughing.  "  Come  —  let  us  go  down  and  see 
what  is  there." 

In  the  large,  clean,  light  cellar  there  were 
hanging  shelves  which  served  the  purposes  of 
a  larder.  The  girls  peered  into  the  various 
stores  collected  on  them. 

"  Here's  a  dish  of  cold  potatoes,"  said 
Maria. 

«  That  will  do  for  one  thing,"  said  Matilda. 

«  Cold  ?  " 

"  Why,  no  !  fried,  Maria." 

"  I  can't  fry  potatoes." 

"  Why,  yes,  you  can,  Maria ;  you  have, 
seen  mamma  do  it  hundreds  of  times." 

"Here's  the  cold  beefsteak  that  was  left 
yesterday." 

"  Cold  beefsteak  isn't  good,"  said  Matilda. 


••  WHA  T  SHE  COULD?  249 

"  Can't  we  warm  it?" 

"How?" 

"  I  don't  know  ;  might  put  it  in  the  oven  , 
it  would  get  hot  there.  There's  a  good 
oven." 

"  I  don't  think  mamma  ever  warms  cold 
beefsteak,"  said  Matilda,  looking  puzzled. 

"  What  does  she  do  with  it?  she  don't 
throw  it  away.  How  do  you  know  she 
doesn't  warm  it?  you  wouldn't  know,  when 
you  saw  it  on  the  table,  whether  it  was  just 
fresh  cooked,  or  only  warmed  up.  How  could 
you  tell  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Matilda  dubiously,  —  "  you 
can  try.  I  wish  I  could  ask  somebody." 

"  I  shall  not  ask  anybody  upstairs,"  said 
Maria.  "  Come  —  you  take  the  potatoes  and 
1  will  carry  the  beefsteak.  Then  we  will 
make 'the  coffee  and  have  breakfast.  I'm  as 
hungry  as  I  can  be." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Matilda.  And  she  sighed 
a  little,  for  she  was  tired  as  well  as  hungry. 
Maria  set  the  dish  of  beefsteak  in  the  oven  to 


250  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

get  hot,  and  Matilda  made  the  coffee.  She 
knew  quite  well  how  to  do  that.  Then  she 
came  to  the  table  where  Maria  was  preparing 
the  potatoes  to  fry.  Maria's  knife  was  going 
chop,  chop,  very  fast. 

"  O  Maria !  you  should  have  peeled  them," 
Matilda  exclaimed  in  dismay. 

"  Peeled !  "  —  said  Maria  stopping  short. 

"  Certainly.  Why  you  knew  that,  Maria. 
Potatoe  parings  are  not  good  to  eat." 

"  It  takes  ages  to  peel  such  little  potatoes," 
said  Maria. 

"  But  you  cannot  eat  them  without  being 
peeled,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Yes,  you  can ;  it  won't  make  any  dif- 
ference. I  will  fry  them  so  brown,  nobody 
will  know  whether  they  have  skins  on  or 
not." 

Matilda  doubted  very  much  the  feasibility 
of  this  plan  ;  but  she  left  Maria,  and  went 
off  to  make  sure  that  the  fires  in  the  other 
rooms  were  burning  right  and  everything  in 
proper  trim.  Then  she  sat  down  in  a  rocking 


"  WHAT  SHE  COULD."  251 

chair  in  the  eating  room,  to  rest ;  wishing  very 
earnestly  that  there  was  somebody  to  help 
who  knew  more  about  business  than  either 
she  or  Maria.  How  were  they  to  get  along? 
And  she  had  promised  her  mother.  And  yet 
more,  Matilda  felt  sure  that  just  this  work 
had  been  given  to  her  and  Maria  to  do  by 
the  Lord  himself.  Therefore  they  could  do 
it  for  him.  Therefore,  all  the  more,  Matilda 
wanted  to  do  it  in  the  very  nicest  and  best 
way  possible.  She  wished  she  had  attended 
when  she  had  seen  her  mother  cooking  dif- 
ferent things ;  now  she  might  have  known  ex- 
actly how  to  manage.  And  that  reminded 
her,  Maria's  beef  and  potatoes  must  be 
done.  She  ran  into  the  kitchen. 

"  There  !"  said  Maria.  "  Can  you  see  the 
skins  now  ?  " 

"  They  are  brown  enough,"  said  Matilda. 
«  But  Maria,  they'll  be  very  hard  !  " 

"  Never  you  mind  ! "  said  Maria  compla- 
cently. 

"  Have  you  looked  at  your  beefsteak  ?  " 


252  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  No ;   but  it  must  be  hot  before  now." 

Maria  opened  the  oven  door,  and  then  with 
an  exclamation  seized  a  cloth  and  drew  out 
the  dish  of  meat.  The  dish  took  their  atten- 
tion first.  It  was  as  brown  as  Maria's  pota- 
toes. It  had  gone  into  the  oven  white. 

"  It  is  spoiled,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  the  oven  was 
so  hot ! "  said  Maria.  "  Won't  it  come  all 
right  with  washing  ?  " 

"  You  might  as  well  wash  your  beefsteak," 
said  Matilda  turning  away. 

If  the  dish  had  gone  in  white,  the  meat 
had  also  gone  in  juicy ;  and  if  the  one  was 
brown,  the  other  was  a  chip. 

"  This  will  not  do  for  breakfast,"  said 
Maria  lugubriously. 

"  It  is  like  your  potatoes,"  —  said  Matilda, 
with  the  ineffable  little  turn  of  her  head. 

"Don't,  Matilda!  What  shall  we  do? 
the  coffee  is  ready." 

"  We  shall  have  a  brown  breakfast,"  said 
Matilda.  "  The  coffee  will  be  the  lightest 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  253 

coloured  thing  on  the  table."  And  the  two 
girls  relieved  themselves  with  laughing. 

"  But,  Matilda !  what  shall  we  do  ?  We 
must  have  something  to  eat." 

"  We  can  boil  some  eggs,"  said  Matilda. 
"  Aunt  Erminia  likes  eggs  ;  and  the  coffee 
will  be  good,  and  the  bread.  And  the  po- 
tatoes will  do  to  look  at." 

So  it  was  arranged  ;  and  the  bell  was  rung 
for  breakfast  only  five  minutes  after  the  time. 
And  all  was  in  order. 

Even  Mrs.  Candy's  good  eyes  found  no 
fault.  And  breakfast  went  forward  better 
than  Matilda  had  dared  to  hope. 

"  You  have  done  your  potatoes  too  much, 
Maria,"  Mrs.  Candy  remarked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  Maria  said  meekly. 

"  They  want  no  more  but  a  light  colouring. 
And  they  should  be  cut  thinner.  These  are 
so  hard  you  can't  eat  them.  And,  Maria,  in 
future  I  will  tell  you  what  to  get  for  break- 
fast. I  did  not  know  when  you  went  to  bed 
last  night,  or  I  should  have  told  you  then. 


254  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

You  are  not  old  enough  to  arrange  things. 
Now  there  was  some  beef  left  from  dinner 
yesterday,  that  would  have  made  a  nice 
hash." 

Maria  eat  bread  and  butter  and  spoke 
not. 

"  It  will  keep  very  well,  and  you  can  make 
it  into  hash  for  to-morrow  morning.  Chop 
it  as  fine  as  you  can,  and  twice  as  much  po- 
tato; and  warm  it  with  a  little  butter  and 
milk  and  pepper  and  salt,  till  it  is  nice  and 
hot ;  and  poach  a  few  eggs,  to  lay  round  it. 
Can  you  poach  eggs,  Maria  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  But  there  is  no  beef,  aunt 
Erminia." 

"No  beef?  You  are  mistaken.  There 
was  a  large  piece  that  we  did  not  eat  yester- 
day." 

"  There  is  none  now,"  said  Maria. 

"  It  must  be  downstairs  in  the  cellar." 

"  I  am  sure  it  is  not,  aunt  Erminia.  I  have 
been  poking  into  every  corner  there;  and 
there  is  no  beef,  I  know." 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  255 

"  Maria,  that  is  a  very  inelegant  way  of 
speaking.  Where  did  you  get  it?  '' 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,  I'm  sure.  Out  of 
the  truth,  I  suppose.  That's  what  I  did." 

"  It  is  a  very  inelegant  way  of  doing,  as 
well  as  of  speaking.  Poking  into  every  thing  ? 
What  did  you  poke  ?  your  finger  ?  or  your 
hand  ?  " 

"  My  nose,  I  suppose,"  said  Maria  hardily. 

"  I  think  I  need  not  tell  you  that  that  is  a 
very  vulgar  expression,"  said  Mrs.  Candy, 
with  a  lofty  air;  while  Clarissa's  shoulders 
gave  a  little  shrug,  as  much  as  to  say  her 
mother  was  wasting  time.  "  Don't  you  know 
any  better,  Maria  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Then  I  hope  you  will  speak  properly  next 
time." 

"  One  gets  so  tired  of  speaking  properly !  " 
said  Maria. 

"  You  ? "  said  Clarissa,  with  a  gentle  in- 
tonation. 

"  I  don't  care !  "    said    Maria    desperately . 


256          "WHAT  SHE  COULD: 

"  People  are  as  they  are  brought  up.  My 
mother  don't  care  for  such  fidgety  notions.  I 
speak  to  please  her,  and  that  is  enough." 

"  No,  Maria,  it  is  not  enough,"  resumed 
Mrs.  Candy.  "  Your  mother  loves  you,  and 
so  she  is  willing  to  overlook  little  things  in 
you  that  she  can  overlook  because  you  are 
her  child  ;  but  when  you  are  grown  up,  you 
would  wish  to  be  liked  by  other  nice  people, 
wouldn't  you  ?  people  of  education,  and 
taste,  and  elegant  habits  ;  and  they  do  not 
like  to  have  anything  to  do  with  people  who 
*  poke  their  noses '  into  things,  or  who  say 
that  they  do." 

u  I'll  keep  in  the  kitchen  then,"  said  Maria 
hastily. 

The  breakfast  may  be  said  to  have  ended 
here ;  for  though  a  few  more  mouthfuls  were 
eaten,  no  more  words  were  said.  Mrs.  Candy 
and  her  daughter  left  the  room  and  went  up- 
stairs. Maria  and  Matilda  began  the  work 
c  f  clearing  the  table. 

"  Ain't  she  too  much  ! "  Maria  exclaimed. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  257 

«  But,  Maria,"  said  her  little  sister,  «  I  wish 
you  wouldn't  say  such  things." 

"  If  I  am  going  to  be  a  kitchen  maid,"  said 
Maria,  "  I  may  as  well  talk  kitchen  maid." 

«  O,  I  don't  think  so,  Maria." 

"I  don't  care!"  said  Maria.  "I  would 
rather  vex  aunt  Candy  than  not;  and  she 
was  vexed  this  morning.  She  kept  it  in 
pretty  well ;  but  she  was  vexed." 

"  But  Maria,  that  isn't  right,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Nothing  is  right,"  said  Maria ;  "  and  noth- 
ing is  going  to  be,  I  guess,  while  they  are 
her'e." 

"  Then  think,  what  would  mamma  do  if 
they  went  away  ?  " 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  away  then ! "  said 
Maria  beginning  to  cry.  "  I  can't  bear  to 
live  so  !  '  Why  do  you  do  so,'  and  '  why  do 
you  do  so  ; '  and  Clarissa  sitting  by  with  that 
little  smile  on  her  mouth  and  lifting  up  her 
eyes  to  look  at  you  —  it  just  makes  me  mad. 
There !  It  is  a  pity  aunt  Candy  wasn't  here 
to  be  shocked  at  American  children." 
17 


258  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

"  But  Maria,"  said  Matilda  with  her  eyes 
swimming  too,  —  "  you  know  the  Lord  Jesus 
has  given  us  this  work." 

"  No,  I  don't!  "  said  Maria ;  "  and  what  if 
he  did?" 

"  Why  then  it  would  please  him  —  you 
know,  Maria,  it  would  please  him  —  to  have 
us  do  it  just  nicely  and  beautifully,  and  not 
like  kitchen  maids,  but  like  his  children. 
You  know,  we  said  we  were  ready  to  do  any 
work  that  he  would  give  us." 

"  I  didn't,"  said  Maria,  half  crying,  half 
pouting.  "  I  didn't  promise  to  do  this  sort  of 
thing." 

"  But  we  mustn't  choose,"  said  Matilda. 

"  But  we  did  choose,"  said  Maria.  "  I 
said  what  I  would  do,  and  other  people  said 
what  they  would  do;  and  nobody  said  any- 
thing about  washing  dishes  and  peeling 
potatoes.  We  were  not  talking  of  that" 

"  The  covenant  says, '  we  stand  ready  to  do 
his  will.'  Don't  you  know  ?  " 

"I  believe    you  know    that    covenant    by 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  259 

heart,"  said  Maria.  "  I  don't.  And  I  don't 
care.  Matilda,  I  wish  you  would  run  down 
cellar  with  the  butter  and  the  cream  and  the 
bread  —  will  you  ?  " 

Matilda  did  not  run,  but  she  made  journey 
after  journey  down  the  cellar  stairs;  with 
feet  that  grew  weary ;  and  then  she  dried  the 
china  while  her  sister  washed  it.  Then  they 
brushed  up  the  kitchen  and  made  up  the 
fires.  Then  Maria  seated  herself  on  the 
kitchen  table  and  looked  at  Matilda. 

"  I'm  tired  now,  Tilly." 

«  So  am  I." 

"  Is  there  anything  else  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  Why  there  is  the  dinner,  Maria." 

"  It  isn't  near  dinner  time.  It  is  only  ten 
o'clock." 

"  How  long  will  it  take  the  potatoes  to 
boil  ?  " 

"  O,  not  long.  It  is  not  time  to  put  them 
on  for  a  great  while." 

"  But  they  are  not  ready,  are  they  ?  " 

«  No." 


260  "WHAT  SHE   COULD. 

«  And  what  else,  Maria  ?  " 

Here  came  a  call  from  the  stair  head. 
Maria  went  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  to  hear 
what  the  business  was,  and  came  back  with 
her  mood  nowise  sweetened ;  to  judge  by  the 
way  she  went  about,  filled  an  iron  pot  with 
water  and  set  it  on  the  stove,  and  dashed 
things  round  generally,  Matilda  looked  on 
without  saying  a  word. 

"  I've  got  my  day's  work  cut  out  for  me 
now,"  said  Maria  at  last.  "  There's  that  leg 
of  mutton  to  boil,  and  turnips  to  be  mashed ; 
besides  the  potatoes.  And  the  turnips  have 
got  to  be  peeled.  Come  and  help  me,  Tilly, 
or  I  shall  never  get  through.  Won't  you  ?  " 

Now  Matilda  had  her  own  notions  about 
things  she  liked  and  things  she  did  not  like 
to  do ;  and  one  of  the  things  she  did  not  like 
to  do,  was  to  roughen  or  soil  her  hands.  To 
put  her  little  hands  into  the  pan  of  water,  and 
handle  and  pare  the  coarse  roots  with  the 
soil  hanging  to  them,  was  very  distasteful  to 
her  nicety.  She  looked  a  little  dismayed. 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  261 

But  there  were  the  roots  all  to  be  pared  and 
washed,  and  Maria  would  have  her  hands 
full ;  and  was  not  this  also  work  given  to 
Matilda  to  do  ?  At  any  rate  she  felt  that  she 
could  not  refuse  without  losing  influence  over 
Maria,  and  that  she  could  not  afford.  So 
Matilda's  hands  and  her  knife  went  into  the 
pan.  She  thought  it  was  very  disagreeable, 
but  she  did  it.  After  the  potatoes  and  turnips 
were  ready  for  the  pot,  Maria  demanded  her 
help  about  other  things;  she  must  clean  the 
knives  and  set  the  table  and  prepare  the 
celery  and  rub  the  apples ;  while  Maria  kept 
up  the  fire  and  attended  to  the  cookery.  Ma- 
tilda did  one  thing  after  another ;  her  weary 
little  feet  travelled  out  and  in,  from  one  room 
to  the  other  room,  aiid  got  things  in  order 
for  dinner  in  both  places. 

It  was  a  pretty  satisfactory  dinner,  on  the 
whole.  The  mutton  was  well  cooked  and  the 
vegetables  were  not  bad,  Mrs.  Candy  said  ; 
but  Matilda  thought  with  dismay  of  the  after 
dinner  dishes.  However,  dinner  gives  courage 


262  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

sometimes;  and  both  she  and  Maria  were 
stronger-hearted  when  they  rose  from  table 
than  when  they  had  sat  down.  Dishes  and 
pots  and  kettles,  and  knives,  and  endless  de- 
tails beside,  were  in  course  of  time  got  rid  of; 
and  then  Matilda  put  on  her  hat  and  cloak 
and  set  forth  on  an  errand  she  had  been  medi- 
tating. 


CHAPTER    X. 

TT  was  a  soft  pleasant  day  late  in  March. 
The  snow  had  all  gone  for  the  present. 
Doubtless  it  might  come  back  again  ;  no  one 
could  tell ;  in  Shadywalk  snow  was  not  an 
unknown  visiter  even  in  April ;  but  for  the 
present  no  such  reminder  of  winter  was  any- 
where to  be  seen.  The  air  was  still  and  gen- 
tle ;  even  the  brown  tree  stems  looked  softer 
and  less  bare  than  a  few  weeks  ago,  though 
no  bursting  buds  yet  were  there  to  make  any 
real  change.  The  note  of  a  bird  might  be 
heard  now  and  then ;  Matilda  had  twice  seen 
the  glorious  colour  of  a  blue  bird's  wings  as 
they  spread  themselves  in  the  light.  It  was 
quite  refreshing  to  get  out  of  the  house  and 
the  kitchen  work,  and  smell  the  fresh  pure  air, 
and  see  the  sky,  and  feel  that  all  the  world  was 


264  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

not  between  four  walls  anywhere.  Matilda 
went  softly  along,  enjoying.  At  the  corner 
she  turned,  and  walked  up  Butternut  street , 
so  called  probably  in  honour  of  some  former 
tree  of  that  family;  for  not  a  shoot  of  one  was 
known  in  the  street  now.  On  and  on  she 
went,  till  her  church  was  passed ;  and  then 
turned  down  the  little  lane  which  led  to  the 
parsonage.  The  snow  all  gone,  it  was  look- 
ing pretty  here.  On  one  side  the  old  church, 
the  new  lecture  room  on  the  other,  and  be- 
tween them  the  avenue  of  elms,  arching  their 
branches  over  the  way  and  making  a  vista,  at 
the  end  of  which  was  the  brown  door  of  the 
parsonage.  Always  that  was  a  pleasant  view 
to  Matilda,  for  she  associated  the  brown  door 
with  a  great  many  things  ;  however,  this  day 
she  did  not  seek  the  old  knocker  which  hung 
temptingly  overhead,  but  sheered  off  and  went 
round  to  the  back  of  the  house ;  and  there  en- 
tered at  once,  and  without  knocking,  upon 
Miss  Redwood's  premises.  They  were  in 
order  ;  nobody  ever  saw  the  parsonage  kitchen 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  26$ 

otherwise ;  and  Miss  Redwood  was  sitting  in 
front  of  the  stove,  knitting. 

"  Well,  if  there  ain't  Tilly  Englefield!"  waa 
her  salutation. 

"  May  I  come  in,  Miss  Redwood  ?  —  if  you 
are  not  busy." 

"  Suppos'n  I  was  busy;  I  guess  you  wouldn't 
do  me  no  harm,  child.  Corne  right  in  and 
sit  down,  and  tell  me  how's  all  goin'  on 
at  your  house.  How's  your  mother,  fust 
thing?" 

"  Aunt  Candy  says  she's  not  any  better." 

"  What  does  your  mother  say  herself?  " 

"  I  have  not  seen  her  to-day.  Aunt  Candy 
says  she  is  nervous ;  and  she  wants  me  not  to 
go  into  her  room." 

"  Who  wants  you  not  to  go  in  ?  Not  your 
mother  ?  " 

"  No ;  aunt  Candy." 

"  I  thought  so.  Well ;  how  do  you  get 
along  without  your  sisters,  eh?  Have  you 
got  a  girl,  or  are  you  goin'  to  do  without  ?  " 

"  We  are  going  to  do  without." 


266  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  kin,  with  your  mother 
sick  and  wantin'  somebody  to  tend  her." 

"  Maria  and  I  do  what's  to  be  done.  Mamma 
doesn't  want  us  to  get  a  girl." 

"  Maria  and  you !  "  said  Miss  Redwood 
straightening  up.  "  I  want  to  know!  You 
and  Maria.  Why  I  didn't  reckon  Maria  was 
a  hand  at  them  kind  o'  things.  What  can 
she  do,  eh  ?  I  want  to  know !  Things  is 
curious  in  this  world." 

"  Maria  can  do  a  good  deal,"  said  Matilda. 

"  And  you  can  too,  can't  ye  ?  "  said  Miss 
Redwood  with  a  benevolent  smile  at  her  little 
visiter,  which  meant  all  love  and  no  criticism. 

"  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  do  more,"  said  Ma- 
tilda. "  I  could,  if  I  knew  how.  That's  what 
I  came  to  ask  you,  Miss  Redwood ;  won't  you 
tell  me  ?  " 

"  Tell  you  anything  on  arth,"  said  the 
housekeeper.  "  What  do  you  want  to  know 
child?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Matilda,  knitting  her 
brow.  "  I  want  to  know  how  to  manage." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  267 

Miss  Redwood's  lips  twitched  and  her  knit- 
ting needles  flew. 

"  So  there  ain't  no  one  but  you  to  manage  ?" 
she  said  at  length. 

"  Aunt  Candy  tells  what  is  to  be  for  break- 
fast and  dinner.  But  I  want  to  know  how  to 
do  things.  "What  can  one  do  with  cold  beef- 
steak, Miss  Redwood  ?  " 

"  'Tain't  good  for  much,"  said  the  house- 
keeper. "  Have  you  got  some  on  hand  ?  " 

«  No.     We  had,  though." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Maria  and  I  put  it  in  the  oven  to  warm ; 
and  it  spoiled  the  dish  and  the  meat  was  all 
dried  up ;  and  then  I  thought  I  would  come 
and  ask  you.  And  we  tried  to  fry  some 
potatoes  this  morning,  and  we  didn't  know 
how,  I  think.  They  were  not  good." 

"  And  so  your  breakfast  all  fell  through, 
and  there  was  a  muss,  I  expect  ?  " 

"  No ;  we  had  eggs ;  nobody  knew  anything 
about  the  beefsteak  and  the  dish.  But  I  want 
to  know  how  to  do." 


268  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

«  What  ailed  your  potatoes  ?  " 
"  They  were  too  hard  and  too  brown." 
"  I  shouldn't  wonder !     I  declare,  I  'most 
think  I've  got  into  the  middle  of  a  fairy  story 
somewhere.     Did  you  ever  hear  about  Cin- 
Vella,  Ti/ly,  and  her  little  glass  slipper  ?  " 
"  O  yes." 

"  Some  people's  chariots  and  horses  will 
find  themselves  turned  into  pun'kins  some 
day  ;  that  is  what  7  believe." 

"  But  about  the  potatoes  ?  "  said  Matilda, 
who  could  not  catch  th^  connection  of  this 
rpeech. 

«  Well;  she  let  'em  b<-  hi  too  long.  That 
was  the  trouble.  If  you  want  to  have  things 
right,  you  must  take  'em  out  vhen  'they  are 
done,  honey." 

"  But  how  can  we  tell  when  thev  are  done  ?  " 
"  Why,  you  know  by  just  lookin  at  'em. 
There  ain't  no  great  trouble  about  i*- ;  any- 
how there  ain't  about  potatoes.  You  just 
put  some  fat  in  a  pan,  and  chop  up  your 
potatoes,  and  when  the  fat  is  hot  clap  'en?  in, 


«  WHA  T  SHE  COULD."  269 

and  let  'em  frizzle  round  a  spell ;  and  then 
when  they're  done  you  take  'em  up.  Did  you 
sprinkle  salt  in  ?  " 

«  No." 

"  You  must  mind  and  sprinkle  salt  in,  while 
they're  in  the  pan  ;  without  that  they'll  taste 
kind  o'  flat." 

"  Aunt  Erminia  don't  like  them  chopped 
up.  She  wants  them  cut  in  thin  slices  and 
browned  on  both  sides." 

"  Laws  a  massy !  why  don't  she  do  'em  so, 
then  ?  what  hinders  her  ?  "  said  the  house- 
keeper looking  at  Matilda.  "  I  thought  she 
was  one  o'  them  kind  o'  folks  as  don't  know 
nothing  handy.  Why  don't  she  do  her  own 
potatoes,  and  as  brown  as  she  likes,  Tilly  ?  " 

"  Mamma  wants  us  to  take  care  of  things, 
Miss  Redwood." 

"  Won't  let  your  aunt  learn  you,  nother  ?  " 
said  Miss  Redwood,  sticking  one  end  of  her 
knitting  needle  behind  her  ear  and  slowly 
scratching  with  it,  while  she  looked  at  Matilda. 

"  Aunt  Candy  does  not  like  to  do  anything 


270  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

in  the  kitchen ;  and  I  would  rather  you  would 
teach  me,  Miss  Redwood  —  if  you  would." 

"  And  can  you  learn  Maria  ?  " 

"  O  yes. 

"  Well,  come  along  ;  what  do  you  want  to 
know  next  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you'd  teach  me  some  time  how  to 
make  gingerbread.  And  pies." 

The  housekeeper  glanced  at  the  clock,  and 
then  bade  Matilda  take  oft'  her  things. 

"  Now  ?  "  said  Matilda  hesitating. 

"  You  can't  do  nothing  any  time  but  now," 
said  Miss  Redwood,  as  she  put  away  her 
work  in  its  basket.  "You  can  think  of  doing 
it ;  but  if  you  ever  come  to  doing  it,  you  will 
find  it  is  now." 

"  But  is  it  convenient  ?  " 

"  La,  child,  I  don't  know  what  people  mean 
by  convenient.  You  look  at  it  one  way,  and 
there  is  nothing  convenient ;  and  you  look  at 
it  another  way,  and  there  is  nothing  but  what 
is.  Hang  your  things  over  that  chair ;  and 
I'll  put  an  apron  on  you." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  2JI 

"  But  which  way  does  it  look  this  after 
noon,  Miss  Redwood  ?  " 

The  housekeeper  laughed,  and  kissed  Tilly 
whom  she  was  arraying  in  a  great  check 
apron,  big  enough  to  cover  her. 

"  It  is  just  how  you  choose  to  take  it,"  she 
said.  "  I  declare  I'm  sorry  for  the  folks  as  is 
tied  to  convenience ;  they  don't  get  the  right 
good  of  their  life.  Why  honey,  what  isn't 
my  convenience  is  somebody  else's  conven- 
ience, maybe.  I  want  it  to  be  sunshine  very 
often,  so  as  I  kin  dry  my  clothes ;  when  the 
farmers  want  it  to  be  rain  to  make  their  corn 
and  cabbages  grow.  It  is  sure  to  be  conven 
ient  for  somebody." 

"  But  I  want  it  to  be  convenient  for  you. 
this  afternoon,"  said  Matilda  wistfully. 

"  Well,  'tis,"  said  the  housekeeper.  "  There 
.  —  wash  your  hands  in  that  bowl,  dear;  and 
here's  a  clean  towel  for  you.  A  body  as 
wants  to  have  things  convenient,  had  bette* 
not  be  a  minister's  housekeeper.  No,  the 
place  is  nice  enough,"  she  went  on,  as  she 


272  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

saw  Matilda's  eye  glance  around  the  kitchen ; 
"'tain't  that;  but  I  always  think  convenient 
means  having  your  own  way ;  and  that  no- 
body need  expect  to  do  at  the  parsonage. 
Just  so  sure  as  I  make  pot  pie,  Mr.  Rich- 
mond '11  hev  to  go  to  a  funeral,  and  it's 
spiled  or  lost,  for  he's  no  time  to  eat  it ;  and 
I  never  cleaned  up  that  hall  and  steps  yet,  but 
an  army  of  boots  and  shoes  came  tramping 
over  it  out  of  the  dirt;  when  if  it  wants  clean- 
ing, it'll  get  leave  to  be  without  a  foot  crossing 
it  all  the  afternoon.  And  if  it's  bakin'  day,  I 
have  visiters,  and  have  to  run  between  them 
and  the  oven,  till  I  don't  know  which  end  is 
the  parlour ;  and  that's  the  way,  Tilly ;  and  I 
don't  know  no  better  way  but  to  conclude 
that  somebody  else's  convenience  is  yourn  — 
and  then  you'll  live  in  clover.  The  minister 
had  to  preach  to  me  a  good  while  before  I 
could  see  it,  though.  Now,  honey,  sift  your 
flour ;  —  here  it  is.  Kin  you  do  it  ?  " 

Matilda  essayed  to  do  it,  and  the  house* 
keeper  looked  on. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  273 

"The  damper  is  turned,"  she  said;  "we'll 
have  the  oven  hot  by  the  time  the  cake  is 
ready.  Now,  dear,  what's  going  into  it  ?  " 

"  Will  that  be  enough  ?  "  said  Matilda,  lift- 
ing her  floury  hand  out  of  the  pan. 

"  /  want  a  piece,"  said  the  housekeeper ; 
"  so  there  had  better  go  another  bowlful. 
And  the  minister  —  he  likes  a  bite  of  hot  gin- 
gerbread, when  he  can  get  it.  So  shake  it  in, 
dear.  That  will  do.  Now,  what  are  you  go- 
ing to  put  in  it,  Tilly  ?  —  besides  flour." 

"  Why,  /don't  know,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Well,  guess.  What  do  you  think  goes 
into  gingerbread  ?" 

"  Molasses  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  that  goes  one  of  the  last  things. 
Ain't  you  going  to  put  no  shortening  in  ?  " 

"  Shortening  ?  what  is  that  ?  "  said  Matilda. 

"  Well,  it's  whatever  you've  got.  Butter 
'11  do,  if  it's  nice  and  sweet  —  like  this  is  — 
or  sweet  drippings  '11  do,  or  a  little  sweet  lard, 
maybe.  We'll  take  the  butter  to-day,  for  this 
is  going  to  do  you  and  me  credit.  Now  think 
18 


274  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

—  what  else?  Put  the  butter  right  there,  in 
the  middle,  and  rub  it  into  the  flour  with  the 
flat  of  your  hand,  so.  Rub  hard,  dear;  get 
the  butter  all  in  the  flour,  so  you  can't  see  it. 
What  is  to  go  in  next  ?  " 

"  Spice?     I  think  mamma  puts  spice." 

"  If  you  like  it.  What  spice  will  you 
choose  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Miss  Redwood." 

"  Well,  it'd  be  queer  gingerbread  without 
ginger,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

"  O  yes.  I  forgot  the  ginger,  to  be  sure. 
How  much  ?" 

"  That's  'cordin'  as  you  like  it.  That  won't 
hardly  taste,  dear ;  'tain't  just  like  red  pepper; 
take  a  good  cupful.  Now  just  a  little  bit  of 
cloves  ?  " 

"  And  cinnamon  ?  " 

"  It'll  be  spice  gingerbread,  sure  enough," 
said  the  housekeeper.  "  And  salt,  Tilly." 

"  Salt  ?  Must  salt  go  in  ? "  said  Ma- 
tilda, who  had  got  very  eager  now  in  her 
work. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  2f$ 

"  Salt's  univarsal,"  said  Miss  Redwood. 
"'Cept  sweetmeats,  it  goes  into  everything. 
That's  what  makes  all  the  rest  good.  I  never 
could  see  what  was  the  use  o'  salt,  till  one 
day  the  minister,  he  preached  a  sermon  on 
'  Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth,'  and  ever  since 
that  it  seems  to  kind  o'  put  me  in  mind.  And 
then  I  asked  Mr.  Richmond  if  everything 
meant  something." 

"  But  what  does  that  mean  ?  that  you  said  ?  " 
said  Matilda.  "  Good  people  don't  make  the 
rest  of  the  world  good." 

"  They  give  all  the  taste  there  is  to  it, 
though,"  said  the  housekeeper.  "  And  I  asked 
that  very  question  myself  of  the  minister ;  and 
what  do  you  think  he  told  me?  " 

"What?" 

"  He  said  it  was  because  the  salt  warn't  of 
as  good  quality  as  it  had  ought  to  be.  And 
that  makes  me  think,  too.  But  la!  look  at 
your  gingerbread  standing  still.  Now  see, 
dear  —  here's  a  bowl  o'  buttermilk  for  you ; 
it's  as  rich  as  cream,  a'most — and  I  take  and 


276  «  WHA  T  SHE  COULD? 

put  in  a  spoonful  of — you  know  what  this 
is?" 

"  Saleeratus  ?  " 

"  That's  it." 

"  We  use  soda  at  our  house." 

"  Salaeratus  is  good  enough  for  me,"  said 
Miss  Redwood ;  "  and  I  know  what  it'll  do  ; 
so  I'm  never  put  out  in  my  calculations. 
Now  when  it  foams  up — see,  —  now  mix 
your  cake,  dear,  as  quick  as  you  like.  Stop 
—  wait  —  let's  get  the  molasses  in.  Now  go 
on.  I  declare,  having  two  pair  o'  hands  kind 
o'  puts  one  out.  Stir  it  up  —  don't  be  afraid." 

Matilda  was  not  afraid,  and  was  very  much 
in  earnest.  The  gingerbread  was  quickly 
mixed,  and  for  a  few  minutes  there  was  busy 
work,  buttering  the  pans  and  putting  the  mixt- 
ure in  them,  and  setting  the  pans  in  the  oven. 
Then  Matilda  washed  her  hands ;  the  house- 
keeper put  the  flour  and  spices  away ;  and 
the  two  sat  down  to  watch  the  baking. 

"  It'll  be  good,"  said  the  housekeeper. 

«  I  hope  it  will,"  said  Matilda. 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  277 

"  I  know  'twill,"  said  Miss  Redwood. 
"  You  do  your  part  right ;  and  these  sort  o' 
things  —  flour,  and  butter,  and  meat,  and  po- 
tatoes, and  that  —  don't  never  disappint  you. 
That's  one  thing  that  is  satisfactory  in  this 
world." 

"  But  mamma  has  her  cake  spoiled  in  the 
oven  sometimes." 

"  'Twarn't  the  oven's  fault,"  said  Miss  Red- 
wood. "  Did  ye  think  it  was  ?  Ovens  don't 
do  that  for  me,  never." 

>  "  But  sometimes  the  oven  was  too  hot," 
said  Matilda;  "and  other  times  she  said  it 
was  not  hot  enough." 

"  Of  course!"  said  the  housekeeper;  "and 
then  again  other  times  she  forgot  to  look  at 
it,  maybe,  and  left  her  cake  in  too  long.  The 
cake  couldn't  knock  at  the  door  of  the  oven, 
to  be  let  out ;  that'd  be  too  much  to  ask 
Now  look  at  yourn,  dear." 

Matilda  opened  the  oven  door  and  shut  it 
again. 

«  What's  the  appearance  of  it?  " 


278  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

"  It  is  coming  up  beautifully.  But  it  isn't 
up  in  the  middle  yet." 

"The  fire's  just  right,"  said  the  house- 
keeper. 

"  But  how  can  you  tell)  Miss  Redwood  ?  " 
said  Matilda,  standing  by  the  stove  with  a 
most  careful  set  of  wrinkles  on  her  little 
brow. 

"Tell?"  said  the  housekeeper;  "just  as 
you  tell  anything  else;  after  you've  seen  it 
fifty  times,  you  know." 

Matilda  began  a  painful  calculation  of  how 
often  she  could  make  something  to  bake,  and 
how  long  it  would  be  till  fifty  times  had  made 
her  wise  in  the  matter ;  when  an  inner  door 
opened,  and  the  minister  himself  came  upon 
the  scene.  Matilda  coloured,  and  looked  a 
little  abashed ;  the  housekeeper  smiled. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  here,  Tilly," 
Mr.  Richmond  said  heartily.  "  What  are  you 
and  Miss  Redwood  doing  here?" 

"  We  are  getting  ready  for  the  business 
of  life,"  said  the  housekeeper.  "  The  minis- 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  279 

ter  knows  there  are  different  ways  of  doin' 
that." 

"  Just  what  way  are  you  taking  now  ? " 
said  Mr.  Richmond  laughing.  "  It  seems  to 
me,  you  think  the  business  of  life  is  eating  — 
if  I  may  judge  by  the  smell  of  the  prepara- 
tion." 

"  It  is  time  you  looked  at  your  cake,  Tilly," 
said  Miss  Redwood ;  and  she  did  not  offer  to 
help  her;  so,  blushing  more  and  more,  Matilda 
was  obliged  to  open  the  oven  door  again  and 
shew  that  she  was  acting  baker.  The  eyes 
of  the  two  older  persons  met  in  a  way  that 
was  pleasant  to  see. 

"What's  here,  Tilly?"  said  the  minister, 
coming  nearer  and  stooping  to  look  in  him- 
self. 

"  Miss  Redwood  has  been  teaching  me  how 
to  make  gingerbread.  O  Miss  Redwood,  it 
is  beginning  to  get  brown  at  the  end." 

"  Turn  the  pans  round  then.  It  ain't  done 
yet." 

"  No,  it  isn't  done,  for  it  is  not  quite  up 


280  "WHAT  SHE    COULD" 

in   the   middle.     There  is  a  sort   of  hollow 
place." 

"  Shut  up  your  oven,  child,  and  it  will  be 
all  right  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  Then  I  think  this  is  the  night  when  you 
are  going  to  stay  and  take  tea  with  me,''  said 
Mr.  Richmond.  "  I  promised  you  a  roasi 
apple,  1  remember.  Are  there  any  more 
apples  that  will  do  for  roasting,  Miss  Red- 
wood ?  " 

"  O,  Mr.  Richmond,  I  do  not  care  for  the 
apple  ! "  Matilda  cried. 

"  But  if  I  don't  have  it,  you  will  stay  and 
take  tea  with  me  ?  " 

Matilda  looked  wistful,  and  hesitated.  Hei 
mother  would  not  miss  her ;  but  could  Mark 
get  the  tea  without  her  ?  — 

"  And  I  dare  say  you  want  to  talk  to  me 
about  something;  isn't  it  so?"  the  minister 
continued. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Richmond ;  I  do." 

«  That  settles  it.  She  will  stay,  Miss  Red- 
wood. I  shall  have  some  gingerbread,  I  hope. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  281 

And  when  you  are  ready,  Tilly,  you  can  come 
to  me  in  my  room." 

The  minister  quitted  the  kitchen,  in  good 
time ;  for  now  the  cakes  were  almost  done 
and  needed  care.  A  little  watchful  waiting, 
and  then  the  plumped  up,  brown,  glossy 
loaves  of  gingerbread  said  to  even  an  inexpe- 
rienced eye  that  it  was  time  for  them  to  come 
out  of  the  oven.  Miss  Redwood  shewed  Ma- 
tilda how  to  arrange  them  on  a  sieve,  where 
they  would  not  get  steamy  and  moist;  and 
Matilda's  eye  surveyed  them  there  with  very 
great  satisfaction. 

"  That's  as  nice  as  if  I  had  made  it  my- 
self," said  the  housekeeper.  "  Now  don't  you 
want  to  get  the  minister's  tea  ?  " 

«  What  shall  I  do,  Miss  Redwood?" 

"  I  thought  maybe  you'd  like  to  learn  how 
to  manage  something  else.  He's  had  no  din- 
ner to-day  —  to  speak  of — and  if  eatin'  ain't 
the  business  of  life,  which  it  ain't,  I  guess,  with 
him  ;  yet  stoppin'  eatin'  would  stop  business, 
he'd  find ;  and  I'm  goin'  to  frizzle  some  beef 


282  "WHAT  SHE   COULD," 

for  his  supper,  and  put  an  egg  in.  Now  I'll 
cut  the  beef — and  you  can  stir  it,  if  you 
like." 

Matilda  liked  very  much.  She  watched 
the  careful  shaving  of  the  beef  in  paper-like 
fragments;  then  at  the  housekeeper's  direc- 
tion she  put  some  butter  in  a  pan  on  the  fire, 
and  when  it  was  hot  threw  the  beef  in  and 
stirred  it  back  and  forward  with  a  knife,  so  as 
not  to  let  it  burn  and  so  as  to  bring  all  the 
shavings  of  beef  in  contact  with  the  hot  pan 
bottom  and  into  the  influence  of  the  boiling 
butter.  At  the  moment  of  its  being  done,  the 
housekeeper  broke  an  egg  or  two  into  the  pan  ; 
and  then  in  another  moment  bade  Matilda 
take  it  from  the  fire  and  turn  it  out.  Mean- 
while Miss  Redwood  had  cut  bread  and  made 
the  tea. 

"  Now  you  can  go  and  call  the  minister," 
she  said. 

Matilda  thought  she  was  having  the  rarest 
of  pleasant  times,  as  she  crossed  the  little  din- 
ing room  and  the  square  yard  of  hall  that 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  283 

came  next,  and  went  into  the  study.  Fire 
Was  burning  in  the  wide  chimney  there  as 
usual ;  the  room  was  very  sweet  and  still ;  Mr 
Richmond  sat  before  the  fire  with  a  book. 

"  I  thought  you  were  coming  to  talk  to  me, 
Tilly?"  he  said,  stretching  out  his  hand  to 
draw  her  up  to  him. 

"  Miss  Redwood  was  shewing  me  how  to 
do  things,  Mr.  Richmond." 

«  Then  you  do  want  to  talk  to  me  ?  " 

"  O  yes,  sir.  But  Mr.  Richmond,  tea  is 
ready." 

"  We'll  eat  first  then,  and  talk  afterward. 
What  is  the  talk  to  be  about,  Tilly  ?  just  to 
give  me  an  idea." 

"  It  is  about  —  I  do  not  know  what  is  right 
about  something,  Mr.  Richmond.  I  do  not 
know  what  I  ought  to  do." 

"  Have  you  looked  in  the  Bible  to  find 
out?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  didn't  know  where  to  look, 
Mr.  Richmond." 

"  Have  you  prayed  about  it  ?  " 


284  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

Matilda  hesitated,  but  finally  said  again, 
«  No." 

"  That  is  another  thing  you  can  always  do. 
The  Lord  understands  your  difficulties  better 
than  any  one  else  can,  and  knows  just  what 
answer  to  give  you." 

"  But — an  answer  ?  will  he  give  it  always  ?  " 

"  Always ;  provided  you  are  perfectly  willing 
to  take  it,  whatever  it  may  be  ;  and  provided 
you  do  your  part." 

"  What  is  my  part  ?  " 

"  If  I  sent  you  to  find  your  way  along  a 
road  you  did  not  know,  where  there  were 
guide  posts  set  up  ;  what  would  be  your  part 
to  do?" 

«  To  mind  the  guide  posts  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  go  on  as  they  bade  you.  That 
is  not  to  prevent  your  asking  somebody  you 
meet  on  the  road,  if  you  are  going  right  ? 
Now  Miss  Redwood  has  rung  her  bell,  and 
you  and  I  must  obey  it." 

"  But,  what  are  the  guide  posts,  Mr.  Rich- 
mond?" 


11  WHAT  SHE   COULD."  285 

"  We  will  see  about  that  after  tea 
Come." 

Matilda  gave  one  wondering  thought  to  the 
question  how  Maria  and  tea  would  get  along 
without  her  at  home;  and  then  she  let  all  that 
go,  and  resolved  to  enjoy  the  present  while 
she  had  it.  Certainly  it  was  very  pleasant  to 
take  tea  with .  Mr.  Richmond.  He  was  so 
very  kind,  and  attentive  to  her  wants ;  and  so 
amusing  in  his  talk  ;  and  the  new  gingerbread 
looked  so  very  handsome,  piled  up  in  the 
cake  basket ;  and  Miss  Redwood  was  such  a 
variety  after  Mrs.  Candy.  Matilda  let  care 
go.  And  when  it  came  to  eating  the  ginger- 
bread, it  was  found  to  be  excellent.  Mr.  Rich- 
mond said  he  wished  she  would  come  often 
and  make  some  for  him. 

"  Do  you  know  there  is  a  meeting  of  the 
Band  this  evening  ?  " 

"  I  had  forgotten  about  it,  Mr.  Richmond 
—  I  have  been  so  busy." 

"  It  is  lucky  you  came  to  take  tea  with  me, 
then,"  said  he.  « Perhaps  you  would  have 


286  "WHAT  SHE   COULD" 

forgotten  it  altogether.  What  is  Maria 
doing?" 

"  She  is  busy  at  home,  Mr.  Richmond." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that.  To-night  is  the  night 
for  questions,  —  I  am  prepared  to  receive 
questions  from  everybody.  Have  you  got. 
yours  ready  ?  " 

"  About  Band  work,  Mr.  Richmond  ?  " 

"  Yes,  about  Band  work.  Though  you 
know  that  is  only  another  name  for  the  Lord's 
work,  whatever  it  may  be  that  he  gives  us  to 
do.  Now  we  will  go  to  my  study  and  attend 
to  the  business  we  were  talking  about." 

So  they  left  Miss  Redwood  to  her  tea-table ; 
and  the  minister  and  his  little  guest  found 
themselves  alone  again. 

"  Now,  Tilly,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  said  as  he 
shut  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Richmond,"  said  Matilda  anxiously, 
"  I  want  to  know  if  I  must  mind  what  aunt 
Erminia  says  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Candy  ?  "  said  Mr.  Richmond,  look- 
ing surprised. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  287 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  The  question  is,  whether  you  must  obey 
her?" 

«  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  should  say,  if  you  doubt  about  any  of 
her  commands,  you  had  better  ask  your 
mother,  Tilly." 

"  But  I  cannot  see  my  mother,  Mr.  Rich- 
mond ;  that  is  one  of  the  things.  Mamma 
is  sick,  and  aunt  Candy  has  forbidden  me  to 
go  into  her  room.  Must  I  stay  out  ?  " 

"  Is  your  mother  so  ill  ?  " 

"  No  sir,  I  do  not  think  she  is ;  I  don't 
know ;  but  aunt  Candy  says  she  is  nervous ; 
and  I  must  not  go  in  there  without  leave." 
And  Matilda  raised  appealing  eyes  to  the 
minister. 

"  That  is  hard,  Tilly.  I  am  very  sorry  to 
hear  it.  But  I  am  of  opinion  that  the  author- 
ity of  nurses  must  not  be  disputed.  I  think 
if  Mrs.  Candy  says  stay  out,  you  had  better 
stay  out" 

"  And    everything    else  ? "     said     Matilda. 


288  "WHAT  SHE   COULD  ? 

u  Must  I  mind  what  she  says  in  everything 
else?" 

"  Are  you  under  her  orders,  Matilda  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  want  to  know,  Mr.  Rich- 
mond. She  says  so.  She  told  me  not  to 
go  out  to  church  last  Sunday  night ;  and  all 
the  others  were  going,  and  I  went  too ;  and 
she  scolded  about  it  and  said  I  must  mind 
her.  Must  I?  —  in  everything?  I  can't  ask 
mamma." 

Mr.  Richmond  turned  a  paper-weight  over 
and  over  two  or  three  times  without  speak- 
ing. 

"  You  know  what  the  fifth  commandment 
is,  Tilly." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Richmond.  But  she  is  not  my 
mother." 

"  Don't  you  think  she  is  in  your  mother's 
place  just  now  ?  Would  not  your  mother 
wish  that  your  obedience  should  be  given  to 
your  aunt  for  the  present?  " 

Matilda  looked  grave,  not  to  say  gloomy. 

"  1  can  tell  you  what  will  make  it  easy," 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  289 

said  Mr.  Richmond.  "  Do  it  for  the  sake  of 
the  Lord  Jesus.  He  set  us  an  example  of 
obedience  to  all  lawful  authorities ;  he  has 
commanded  us  to  liv?  in  peace  with  every- 
body as  far  as  we  possibly  can ;  and  to  sub- 
mit ourselves  to  one  another  in  the  fear  of 
God.  Besides  that,  I  must  think,  Tilly,  the 
command  to  obey  our  parents  means  also 
that  we  should  obey  whoever  happens  to 
stand  in  our  parents'  place  to  us.  Will  it  not 
make  it  easy  to  obey  your  aunt,  if  you  think 
that  you  are  doing  it  to  please  God  1  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Richmond,"  Matilda  said 
thoughtfully. 

"  I  always  feel  that  God's  command  sweet- 
ens anything,"  the  minister  went  on.  "  Do 
you  feel  so  ?  " 

«  I  think  I  do  ;  "  the  little  girl  answered. 

"  So  if  you  stay  at  home  for  Mrs.  Candy's 
command,  you  may  reflect  that  it  is  for  Jesus' 
sake ;  and  that  will  please  him  a  great  deal 
better  than  your"  going  to  church  to  please 
yourself." 

19 


290  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Richmond,"  Matilda  said  cheer- 
fully. 

"  Was  that  all  you  had  to  talk  to  me 
about?" 

"  Yes,  sir  —  all  except  about  Band  work." 

"  We  will  talk  about  that  in  the  meeting. 
If  you  have  a  question  to  ask,  write  it  here  ; 
and  I  will  take  it  in  and  answer  it." 

He  gave  Matilda  paper  and  pen,  and  him- 
self put  on  his  overcoat.  Then  taking  her 
little  slip  of  a  question,  the  two  went  to 
gether  into  the  Lecture  room. 


CHAPTER   XL 


was  a  good  little  gathering  of  the 
Workers,  many  of  whom  were  quite 
young  persons.  Among  them  Matilda  was 
not  a  little  surprised  to  see  Maria.  But  she 
warily  sheered  off  from  comments  and  ques- 
tions, and  took  a  seat  in  another  part  of  the 
room. 

"  We  are  here  for  a  good  talk  to-night," 
said  the  minister,  after  they  had  sung  and 
prayed.  "  I  stand  ready  to  meet  difficulties 
and  answer  questions.  All  who  have  any 
more  little  notes  to  lay  on  the  desk,  please 
bring  or  send  them  up,  or  ask  their  questions 
by  word  of  mouth.  I  will  take  the  first  of 
these  that  comes  to  hand." 

Mr.  Richmond  unfolded  a  paper  and  read 
it  over  to  himself,  in  the  midst  of  a  hush  of 
expectation.  Then  he  read  it  aloud. 


292  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

"  If  a  member  of  the  Relief  Committee 
visits  a  sick  person  in  want  of  help,  and  finds 
another  member  of  some  other  Committee 
giving  the  help  and  doing  the  work  of  the 
Relief  Committee,  which  of  them  should  take 
care  of  the  case  ?  " 

"  It  is  almost  as  puzzling,"  said  Mr.  Rich- 
mond, "  as  that  other  question,  what  husband 
the  woman  should  have  in  the  other  world 
who  had  had  seven  in  this.  But  as  we  are 
not  just  like  the  angels  in  heaven  yet,  I  should 
say  in  this  and  similar  cases,  that  the  one 
who  first  found  and  undertook  the  case 
should  continue  her  care,  —  or  his  care, —  if 
he  or  she  be  so  minded.  The  old  rule  of  '  first 
come,  first  served,'  is  a  good  one,  I  think. 
The  Relief  Committee  has  no  monopoly  of 
the  joy  of  helping  others.  Let  us  see  what 
comes  next." 

"  There  are  four  people  I  know,  who  go  to 
read  the  Bible  to  one  blind  person  —  and  I 
know  of  at  least  two  who  are  sick  and  unable 
to  read,  that  nobody  goes  to." 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  293 

"  Want  of  system,"  said  Mr.  Richmond 
looking  up.  "  The  head  of  the  Bible-reading 
Committee  should  be  told  of  these  facts." 

"  She  has  been  told,"  said  a  lady  in  the 
company. 

"  Then  doubtless  the  irregularity  will  be 
set  to  rights." 

"  No,  it  is  not  so  certain  ;  for  the  blind  per- 
son lives  where  it  is  easy  to  attend  her ;  and 
the  sick  people  are  in  Lilac  lane  —  out  of  the 
way,  and  in  a  disagreeable  place." 

"  Does  the  head  of  the  Bible-reading  Com- 
mittee decline  these  cases,  having  nobody 
that  she  can  send  to  them  ?  " 

"  She  says  she  does  not  know  whom  to 
send." 

"  I  will  thank  you  for  the  names  of  those 
two  cases  by  and  by,  Mrs.  Norris ;  I  think 
I  can  get  them  supplied.  The  question  of 
theory  J  will  handle  presently,  before  we 
separate." 

"  Here  is  another  request,"  said  Mr.  Rich- 
mond, who  knew  Matilda's  handwriting,  - 


294  "  WHA T  SHF-    COULD" 

"  from  a  dear  child,  who  asks  to  know  '  what 
•we  shall  do,  when  people  will  not  hear  the 
message  we  carry  ?  '  Why  try  again.  Go 
and  tell  them  again  ;  and  never  mind  rebuffs 
if  you  get  them.  People  did  not  listen  to  our 
Master ;  it  is  no  matter  of  wonder  if  they  re- 
fuse to  hear  us.  But  he  did  not  stop  his 
labours  for  that ;  neither  must  we.  '  Let  us 
not  be  weary  in  well-doing ;  for  in  due  sea- 
son we  shall  reap,  if  we  faint  not.'  I  give 
her  that  for  her  watchword  ;  — '  If  we  faint 
not,  remember. 

"  The  next  question  in  my  hand  is,  '  what 
we  are  to  do  about  welcoming  strangers  ? ' 
The  writer  states,  that  six  new  scholars  have 
lately  come  to  the  school,  and  to  her  certain 
knowledge  only  two  of  them  have  received 
any  welcome. 

"  Well,"  —  said  Mr.  Richmond  thoughtfully, 
"  I  must  come  to  the  words  I  had  chosen  to 
talk  to  you  about.  They  answer  a  great 
many  things.  You  all  remember  a  verse  in 
the  epistle  to  the  Ephesians  which  speaks  of 


"WHAT  SHE    COULD."  29^ 

Redeeming  the  time,  because  the  days  are 
evil.' 

"  I  dare  say  it  has  puzzled  some  of  you,  as 
it  used  once  to  puzzle  me.  How  are  we  to 
'redeem  the  time'?  Another  translation  of 
the  passage  will  perhaps  be  clearer  and  help 
us  to  understand.  '  Buying'  up  opportuni- 
ties? The  words  are  so  rendered  by  a  late 
great  authority.  I  don't  know  but  you  will 
at  first  think  it  just  as  hard  to  comprehend. 
How  are  we  to  '  buy  up  opportunities '  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  /don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Swan, 
Ailie's  mother.  "  I  always  thought  oppor- 
tunities were  given." 

"  So  they  are.  But  the  privilege  of  using 
them,  we  often  must  buy." 

"  I  don't  see  how." 

"  Let  us  come  to  facts,  Mrs.  Swan.  Here 
are  four  opportunities  in  the  school,  in  the 
shape  of  new  members  added  to  it.  How 
comes  it  these  opportunities  have  not  been 
used?  There  are  two  'other  grand  oppor- 
tunities in  Lilac  lane." 


296  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

"  Are  we  to  buy  them  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Trern 
bleton. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  else  the  difficulty  can  be 
met.  They  are  worth  buying.  But  the  next 
question  is,  What  will  you  pay  ?  " 

There  was  a  long  silence,  which  nobody 
seemed  inclined  to  break. 

"  I  think  you  see,  my  dear  friends,  what  I 
mean.  For  welcoming  those  four  strangers, 
somebody  must  give  up  his  ease  for  a  moment 
—  must  make  a  little  sacrifice  of  comfort.  It 
will  be  very  little  indeed,  for  these  things  pay 
as  we  go  ;  we  get  our  return  promptly.  The 
opportunities  in  Lilac  lane  must  be  bought, 
perhaps,  with  some  giving  up  of  time;  of 
pleasure,  perhaps ;  perhaps  we  must  pay  some 
annoyance.  It  is  so  with  most  of  our  oppor- 
tunities, dear  friends.  He  who  serves  God 
with  what  costs  him  nothing,  will  do  very 
little  service,  you  may  depend  on  it.  Christ 
did  not  so ;  who  '  though  he  was  rich,  yet  for 
our  sakes  he  became  poor,  that  we  through 
his  poverty  might  be  rich.'  He  '  pleased  not 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD:'         297 

himself.'  And  we,  if  we  are  his  servants, 
must  be  ready  to  give  everything,  if  need  be, 
even  our  lives  also,  to  the  work  he  calls  us  to 
do.  We  must  buy  up  opportunities  with  all 
our  might,  paying  not  only  time  and  money, 
but  love  and  patience  and  self-denial  and 
self-abasement  and  labour  and  pains-taking. 
We  cannot  be  right  servants  of  God  —  or  hap- 
py servants  —  and  keep  back  anything.  '  Let  a 
man  so  account  of  us,  as  ministers  of  Christ, 
and  stewards  of  the  mysteries  of  God  ; '  and 
let  us  see  that  all  the  grace  he  gives  us  we 
use  to  the  very  uttermost  for  his  glory  —  in 
*  works  and  love  and  service  and  faith  and 
patience  and  works.' —  My  dear  friends,  if  we 
have  only  love  in  our  hearts,  love  will  buy  up 
opportunities  as  fast  as  they  come ;  and  always 
have  the  right  money." 

Mr.  Richmond  said  no  more,  but  after 
another  hymn  and  a  prayer  dismissed  the 
assembly.  Maria  and  Matilda  presently  found 
themselves  side  by  side  in  the  street. 

"  Maria,"  said  the  younger  one,  "  don't  you 


298  "  WHA  T  SHE  COULD." 

t-hink  you  and  1  will  go  and  read  to  those  two 
poor  people  in  the  lane?  " 

"I  guess  I  will!"  said  Maria,  —  "when  I 
get  done  being  chief  cook  and  bottle-washer 
to  Mrs.  Minny  Candy." 

"  But  before  that,  Maria  ?  " 

"  When  shall  I  go  ? "  said  Maria  sharply. 
"  When  it  is  time  to  get  breakfast  ?  or  when 
the  potatoes  are  on  for  dinner?  or  when  I  am 
taking  the  orders  for  tea  ?  Don't  be  a  goose, 
Matilda,  if  you  can  help  it." 

'<  We  haven't  much  time,"  said  Matilda 
sighing. 

"  And  I  am  not  going  to  Lilac  lane,  if  1 
had  it.  There  are  enough  other  people  to  do 
that." 

"0  Maria!" 

«  Well,  '  O  Maria,'  —  there  are." 

"  But  they  do  not  go." 

"  That's  their  look  out." 

"  And  Maria,  you  see  what  Mr.  Richmond 
thinks  about  the  Dows." 

"  I  don't  see  any  such  thing." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  299 

u  You  heard  him  to-night." 

"  He  didn't  say  a  word  about  the  Dows." 

"  But  about  trying  again,  he  did.  O  Maria, 
I've  thought  a  great  many  times  of  that  Dows' 
house." 

"So  have  I,"  said  Maria,  —  "  what  fools  we 
were." 

"  Why  t " 

"  Why,  because  it  was  no  use." 

"  Mr.  Richmond  doesn't  think  so." 

"  He's  welcome  to  go  and  try  for  himself, 
/am  not  going  again." 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Maria?" 

"Nothing  is  the  matter." 

"  But  Maria,  ever  since  you  joined  the 
Band,  I  cannot  remember  once  seeing  you 
'  buy  up  opportunities.'  If  you  loved  Jesus, 
1  think  you  would." 

"  I  wouldn't  preach,"  said  Maria.  "  That  is 
one  thing  I  wouldn't  do.  If  I  was  better  than 
my  neighbours,  I'd  let  them  be  the  ones  to 
find  it  out." 

Matilda  was  silent  till  they  reached  home. 


300  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Matilda  ? "  said 
her  aunt  opening  the  parlour  door. 

"  To  see  Miss  Redwood,  aunt  Candy." 

"  Ask  me,  next  time,  before  going  anywhere. 
Here  has  Maria  had  everything  to  do  since 
five  hours  ago, —  all  alone." 

Matilda  shut  her  lips  firmly,  —  if  her  head 
took  a  more  upright  set  on  her  shoulders  she 
did  not  know  it,  —  and  went  upstairs  after  her 
sister. 

"  How  is  mamma,  Maria  ?  "  she  asked  when 
she  got  there. 

"  I  don't  know.     Just  the  same." 

The  little  girl  sighed. 

"  What  is  to  be  for  breakfast  ?  " 

«  Fish  balls." 

"  You  do  not  know  how  to  make  them." 

"  Aunt  Erminia  told  me.  But  I  shall 
want  your  help,  Tilly,  for  the  fish  has  to  be 
carefully  picked  all  to  pieces ;  and  if  we 
leave  a  bit  as  big  as  a  sixpence,  there'll  be  a 
row." 

"  But  the  fish  isn't  soaked,  Maria." 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  30! 

"  It  is  in  hot  water,  on  the  stove  now.  It 
will  be  done  by  morning." 

Matilda  sighed  again  deeply,  and  knelt 
down  before  the  table  where  her  Bible  was 
open.  "  Buying  up  opportunities  "  floated 
through  her  head ;  with  "  works  and  love  and 
service  and  faith  and  patience  and  works"* — 
"Christ  pleased  not  himself"  —  and  the  little 
girl's  head  went  down  upon  the  open  page. 
How  much  love  she  must  have,  to  meet  all 
the  needs  for  it !  to  do  all  the  works,  have  all 
the  patience,  buy  up  all  the  opportunities! 
Tilly's  one  prayer  was  that  she  might  be 
full  of  love,  first  to  God  and  then  to  every- 
body. 

Such  prayers  are  apt  to  be  answered ;  and 
the  next  morning  saw  her  go  through  all  the 
details  of  its  affairs  with  a  quiet  patience  and 
readiness  which  must  have  had  a  deep  spring 
somewhere.  She  helped  Maria  in  the  tedious 
picking  out  of  the  fish  ;  she  roasted  her  cheeks 
in  frying  the  balls,  while  her  sister  was  making 
porridge;  she  attended  to  the  coffee;  and  she 
*  Alford's  translation. 


302  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

met  her  aunt  and  cousin  at  breakfast  with  an 
unruffled  quiet  sweetness  of  temper.  It  was 
just  the  drop  of  oil  needed  to  keep  things  going 
smoothly ;  for  Maria  was  tired  and  out  of  hu- 
mour, and  Mrs.  Candy  disposed  to  be  ill  pleased 
with  both  the  girls  for  their  being  out  at  the 
Band  meeting.  She  did  not  approve  of  the 
whole  thing,  she  said.  However,  the  sunshine 
scattered  the  clouds  away.  And  when,  after  a 
busy  morning  and  a  pretty  well  got-up  dinner, 
Matilda  asked  leave  to  go  out  and  take  a  walk, 
she  had  her  reward.  Mrs.  Candy  gave  permis- 
sion. 

"  Won't  you  come  too,  Maria  ?  "  she  asked 
when  they  went  to  their  own  room. 

"  There's  no  fun  in  walking,"  Maria  an- 
swered disconsolately. 

"  I  am  going  to  Lilac  lane." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think  there  is  any  fun  in 
that." 

«  But  Maria ! "  — 

"Well,  what?" 

"  I  think  there  is  something  a  great  deal 
better  th«n  f«n  " 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  303 

"  You  may  have  it  all  then,  for  me." 

"  Maria,"  said  her  little  sister  gently,  "  I 
wish  you  wouldn't  mind.  Mamma  will  get 
well  by  and  by,  and  this  will  be  all  over ;  and 
we  are  getting  along  so  nicely.  Aunt  Candy 
was  quite  pleased  with  the  dinner." 

"  There's  another  dinner  to  get  to-morrow," 
said  Maria ;  "  and  I  don't  know  what  you 
mean  by  this  being  'all  over'  when  mamma 
gets  well.  What  difference  will  her  getting 
well  make  ?  She  will  help,  to  be  sure  ;  but 
we  should  have  the  same  things  to  do  —  just 
the  same." 

Matilda  had  not  reckoned  on  that,  for  she 
looked  sober  a  minute  or  two. 

"  Well,  Maria,"  she  said  then,  clearing  up, 
"  I  don't  care.  If  Jesus  has  given  us  this  to 
do,  you  know,  I  like  to  do  it ;  because  he  has 
given  it  to  us  to  do." 

Maria  turned  away  impatiently. 

"  Maria,"  said  her  little  sister,  drawing 
nearer  and  speaking  solemnly,  "  do  you 
intend  to  ask  Mr.  Richmond  to  baptize 


304  "WHAT  SHE    COULD:1 

you  the  next  time  he  has  the  baptismal  ser- 
vice ?  " 

"  If  I  do,"  said  Maria,  "  you  need  not  trou- 
ble yourself  about  it." 

And  Matilda  thought  she  had  better  let  the 
subject  and  her  sister  both  alone  for  the  pres- 
ent. She  had  got  herself  ready,  and  now  tak- 
ing her  Bible  she  went  out.  It  was  but  a 
little  way  to  the  corner.  There  she  turned, 
in  the  opposite  direction  from  the  one  which 
would  have  taken  her  to  church,  and  crossed 
the  main  street.  In  that  direction,  further  on, 
lay  the  way  to  Lilac  lane ;  but  at  the  other 
corner  of  the  street  Matilda  found  an  inter- 
ruption. Somebody  stopped  her,  whom  she 
knew  the  next  instant  to  be  Norton  Laval. 

«  Why,  it  is  Matilda  Englefield !  "  he  said. 
"  You  are  just  the  one  I  want  to  see." 

"  Am  I  ?  "  said  Matilda. 

"  I  should  think  so.  Come  along  —  our 
house  lies  that  way  —  don't  you  recollect  ?  " 

"  O  but  I  am  not  going  that  way  now,"  said 
Matilda. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD"  305 

"  O  yes,  but  you  are !  Mamma  says  con- 
tradicting is  very  rude,  but  I  can't  help  it 
sometimes.  Can  you  help  it,  Matilda  ?  " 

"  People  ought  to  be  contradicted  some- 
times," Matilda  said  with  an  arch  bridling  of 
her  head,  which,  to  be  sure,  the  child  was 
quite  unconscious  of. 

"  Not  I,"  said  Norton.     «  Come  !  " 

"  O  but  I  cannot,  Norton.  I  wish  I  could. 
Not  this  time." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  Up  that  way." 

"  Nobody  lives  up  that  way." 

"  Nobody  ?     Just  look  at  the  houses." 

"  Nobody  lives  in  those  houses,"  said  Nor- 
ton. 

"  O  very  well ;  then  I  am  going  to  see 
nobody." 

"  No,  Matilda ;  you  are  coming  to  see 
mamma.  And  I  have  something  to  shew 
you ;  a  new  beautiful  game,  which  mamma 
nas  got  for  me;  we  are  going  to  play  it  on 
the  lawn,  when  the  grass  is  in  order,  by  and 


306  "WHAT  SHE  COULD" 

by ;  and  I  want  you  to  come  and  see  it  now, 
and  learn  how  to  play.'  Come,  Matilda^  I 
want  to  shew  it  to  you." 

Matilda  hesitated.  It  did  not  seern  very 
easy  to  get  rid  of  Norton ;  but  what  would 
become  of  the  poor  people  in  Lilac  lane? 
Would  another  time  do  for  them  ?  —  here 
was  Norton  waiting  for  her.  And  a  little 
play  would  be  so  pleasant.  As  she  stood 
irresolute,  Norton,  putting  his  arm  lound  her 
affectionately,  and  applying  a  little  good- 
humoured  force,  gave  her  shoulders  without 
much  difficulty  the  turn  he  wished  them  to 
take.  The  two  began  to  move  down  the 
street  towards  Norton's  home.  But  as  soon 
as  this  was  done,  Matilda  began  to  have, 
qualms  about  her  dress.  Norton  was  in  a 
brown  suit  that  fitted  him,  fresh  and  hand- 
some ;  his  cap  sat  jauntily  on  his  thick  wavy 
hair;  he  was  nice  from  head  to  foot.  And 
Matilda  had  come  out  in  the  home  Jress  she 
had  worn  while  she  and  Mnia  had  been 
washing  up  the  dinner  dittoes.  Looking 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD."  307 

down,  she  could  see  a  little  wet  spot  on  the 
skirt  now.  That  would  dry.  But  then  her 
boots  were  her  every  day  boots,  and  they 
were  a  little  rusty ;  and  she  had  on  her  com- 
mon school  hat.  The  only  thing  new  and 
bright  about  her  was  her  Bible  under  her 
arm.  As  her  eye  fell  upon  it,  so  did  her 
companion's  eye. 

"What  book  have  you  got  there?"  he 
asked,  and  then  put  out  his  hand  to  take  it. 
"  A  Bible !  Where  were  you  going  with  this, 
Matilda  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  Bible,"  said  the  little  girl. 

"  Yes ;  but  you  do  not  take  your  Bible  out 
to  walk  with  you,  do  you,  as  babies  do  their 
dolls?" 

«  Of  course  not." 

«  Then  what  for,  Matilda?  " 

"  Business." 

«  What  sort  of  business  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know,  Norton  ?  It 
was  private  business." 

« I  like  that,"  said   Norton.     "  Why  do   I 


308  "WHAT  SHE  COULD:1 

want  to  know?  Because  you  are  Matilda 
Englefield,  and  I  like  to  know  all  about  you." 

"  You  do  not  know  much  yet,"  said  Ma- 
tilda, looking  with  a  pleased  look,  however, 
up  into  her  companion's  face.  It  was  smiling 
at  her,  with  a  complacent  look  to  match. 

"  I  shan't  know  much  when  I  know  all,"  he 
said.  "  How  old  are  you  ?  You  can't  make 
much  history  in  ten  years." 

"  No,  not  much,"  said  Matilda.  "  But  still 
—  it  may  not  be  history  to  other  people,  but 
J  think  it  is  to  oneself." 

"What?" 

"  O,  one's  life,  you  know." 

"  But  ten  years  is  not  a  life,"  said  Norton. 

"  It  is,  if  one  hasn't  lived  any  longer." 

"  I  would  like  my  life  to  be  history  to  other 
people,"  said  Norton.  "  Something  worth 
while." 

"  I  wouldn't  like  other  people  to  know  my 
life,  though,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Then  could  not  help  it,  if  it  was  some- 
thing worth  while,"  said  Norton. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  309 

"  Why  yes,  Norton ;  one's  life  is  what  one 
thinks  and  feels ;  what  nobody  knows.  Not 
the  things  that  everybody  knows." 

"  It  is  what  one  does"  said  Norton ;  "  and 
if  you  do  anything  worth  while,  people  will 
know  it.  I  wonder  what  there  will  be  to  tell 
of  you  and  me  fifty  years  from  now  ?  " 

"  Fifty  years !  Why,  then  I  should  be 
sixty-one,"  said  Matilda ;  "  and  you  would 
be  a  good  deal  more  than  that.  But  perhaps 
we  shall  not  live  to  be  so  old." 

"  Yes  we  shall,"  said  Norton.  "  J  shall ; 
and  you  must,  too." 

"  Why,  Norton,  we  can't  make  ourselves 
live,"  said  Matilda,  in  great  astonishment  a* 
this  language. 

"We  shall  live  to  be  old,  though,"  said 
Norton.  "  I  know  it.  And  I  wish  there  may 
be  something  to  be  said  of  me.  I  don't  think 
women  ought  to  be  talked  of." 

"  I  do  not  see  what  good  it  would  do  any- 
body to  be  talked  of,  after  he  has  gone  away 
out  of  the  world,"  said  Matilda.  "  Except  to 


310          "  WHA  T  SHE  COULD:- 

be   talked   of   in    heaven.      That   would    be 
good." 

«  In  heaven ! "  said  Norton.  «  Talked  of  in 
heaven !  Where  did  you  get  that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  that  exactly,"  said  Matilda. 
"  But  some  people  will." 
.     «  Who  ?  " 

"  Why,  a  great  many  people,  Norton. 
Abraham,  and  Noah,  and  David,  and  Daniel, 
and  the  woman  that  put  all  she  had  into  the 
Lord's  treasury,  and  the  woman  that  anointed 
the  head  of  Jesus  —  the  woman  who,  he  said, 
had  done  what  she  could.  I  would  like  to 
have  that  said  of  me,  if  it  was  Jesus  that 
said  it." 

Norton  took  hold  of  Matilda  and  gave  her 
a  little  good-humoured  shake.  "  Stop  that!" 
he  said  ;  "  and  tell  me  is  that  why  you  are 
carrying  a  Bible  out  here  in  the  streets  ?  " 

"  O  I  haven't  any  use  for  it  here,  Nor- 
ton." 

"  Then  what  have  you  got  it  here  for  ?  " 

"  Norton,  there  are  some  people  in  the  vil- 


"  WHAT  SHE    COULD.  311 

lage  who  are  sick,  or  cannot  read ;  and  I  was 
going  to  read  to  them." 

"  Where  are  they  ?  " 

"  In  Lilac  lane." 

"  Where  is  that  ?  " 

"  You  go  up  past  the  corner  a  good  wa^, 
and  just  by  Mr.  Earth's  foundry  you  turn 
down  a  few  steps,  and  turn  again  at  the 
baker's.  Then,  a  little  way  further  on,  you 
strike  into  the  lane." 

"That's  it,  is  it?  I  know.  But  do  you 
know  what  sort  of  people  live  up  that 
way  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  there's  another  thing  you  don't 
know,  and  that's  the  mud.  You'd  never 
have  got  out  again,  if  you  had  gone  to  Lilac 
lane  to-day.  It  is  three  feet  deep;  and  it 
weighs  twenty  pounds  a  foot.  After  you  set 
your  shoe  in  it  you  want  a  windlass  to  get  it 
out  again." 

"  What  is  a  windlass  ?  "  Matilda  asked. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?     Well,  you  are  a  girl ; 


312  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

but  you  are  a  brick.  I'll  teach  you  about  a 
windlass,  and  lots  of  things." 

"  I  shouldn't  think  you  would  want  to  teach 
me,  because  I  am  a  girl,"  said  Matilda. 

They  had  reached  the  iron  gate  of  Mrs. 
Laval's  domain,  walking  fast  as  they  had 
talked ;  and  in  answer  to  Matilda's  last  re- 
mark, Norton  opened  the  gate  for  her,  and 
took  off  his  cap  with  an  air  as  he  held  it  for 
her  to  pass  in.  Matilda  looked,  smiled,  and 
stepped  past  him. 

"  You  are  not  like  any  boy  I  ever  saw," 
she  remarked,  when  he  had  recovered  his  cap 
and  his  place  beside  her. 

"  I  hope  you  like  me  better  than  any  one 
you  ever  saw  ?  " 

«  Yes,"  said  Matilda,  "  I  do." 

The  boy's  answer,  was  to  do  what  most 
boys  are  too  shy  or  too  proud  for.  He  put 
his  arms  round  Matilda  and  gave  her  a  hearty 
kiss.  Matilda  was  greatly  surprised,  and 
bridled  a  little,  as  if  she  thought  Norton  had 
taken  a  liberty  ;  but  on  the  whole  seemed  to 


"  WHA  T  SHE  COULD."  313 

recognize  the  fact  that  they  were  very  gooiV 
friends,  and  took  this  as  a  seal  of  it.  Norton 
led  her  into  the  house,  got  his  croquet  box, 
and  brought  her  and  it  out  again  to  the  lit- 
tle lawn  before  the  door.  Nobody  else  was 
visible.  The  day  was  still,  dry,  and  sunny, 
and  though  the  grass  was  hardly  green  yet 
and  not  shaven  nor  rolled  nor  anything  that  a 
croquet  lawn  ought  to  be,  still  it  would  do, 
as  Norton  said,  to  look  at.  Matilda  stood  by 
and  listened  intently,  while  he  planted  his 
hoops  and  shewed  his  mallets  and  explained 
to  her  the  initial  mysteries  of  the  game.  They 
even  tried  how  it  would  go ;  and  there  was 
no  doubt  of  one  thing,  the  time  went  almost 
as  fast  as  the  croquet  balls. 

"  I  must  run  home,  Norton,"  Matilda  said 
at  last. 

"  Why  ?     I  don't  think  so." 

"  I  know  I  must." 

"  Well,  do  you  like  it  ?  "  He  meant  the 
game. 

"  O  it's  delightful ! "  was  Matilda's  honest 


314  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

exclamation.  Norton  pushed  back  his  cap 
and  looked  at  her,  pleased  on  his  part.  It 
came  into  Matilda's  head  that  she  ought  to 
tell  him  something.  Their  two  faces  had 
grown  to  be  so  friendly  to  each  other. 

"  Norton,"  she  said  gravely,  "  I  want  you 
to  know  something  about  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  Norton.     "  I  want  to  know  it." 

"  You  don't  know  what  it  is." 

"  That's  the  very  thing.  I  want  to  know 
it." 

"  Norton  —  did  you  ever  see  anybody 
baptized  ?  " 

"  Babies  "  —  said  Norton,  after  a  moment's 
lecollection. 

"  Well,  if  you  would  like  to  see  me  baptized, 
come  to  our  church,  Sunday  after  next." 

«  You  ?  "  said  Norton.  «  Haven't  you  been 
baptized?" 

«  Not  yet." 

"  I  thought  everybody  was.  Then  if  you 
have  not  been  yet,  why  do  you  ?  Whose 
notion  is  that  ?  " 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD"  315 

« It  is  mine." 

"  Your  notion  ?  "  said  Norton  examining 
her.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Ma- 
tilda?" 

"  I  mean,  I  want  to  be  baptized;  and  Mr. 
Richmond  is  going  to  do  it  for  me." 

"  What's  it  for  ?  what's  the  use  ?  I  wouldn't 
if  I  were  you." 

"  It  is  joining  the  church.  Don't  you  un- 
derstand, Norton  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  That  is  something  1  never 
did  understand.  Do  you  understand  it  ?  " 

"  Why  yes,  certainly." 

"  Let's  hear,  then,"  said  Norton,  putting  up 
his  croquet  balls. 

"  Mr.  Richmond  has  explained  it  so  much, 
you  know,  I  couldn't  help  but  understand." 

"  O  it's  Mr.  Richmond,  is  it  ?  " 

"No;  it's  the  Bible." 

«  Let's  hear,  then,"  said  Norton.    "  Go  on." 

Matilda  hesitated.  She  found  a  difficulty  in 
saying  all  her  mind  to  him ;  she  did  not  know 
whether  it  was  best ;  and  with  that  she  had 


316          "WHAT  SHE  COULD:' 

a  suspicion  that  perhaps  she  ought  to  do  it. 
She  glanced  at  him,  and  looked  away,  and 
glanced  again ;  and  tried  to  make  up  her 
mind.  Norton  was  busy  putting  up  his  cro- 
quet hoops  and  mallets ;  but  his  face  looked 
so  energetic  and  wide  awake,  and  his  eye 
was  so  quick  and  strong,  that  she  was  half 
afraid  to  say  something  that  might  bring  an 
expression  of  doubt  or  ridicule  upon  it.  Then 
Norton  looked  up  at  her  again,  a  keen  look 
enough,  but  so  full  of  pleasure  in  her  that 
Matilda's  doubts  were  resolved.  He  would 
not  be  unkind  ;  she  would  venture  it. 

"  I  want  you  to  know  about  me,  Norton," 
she  began  again. 

«  Well,"  said  Norton,  "  so  do  I;  but  it  seems 
difficult,  somehow." 

"  You  do  not  think  that,  for  you  are  laugh- 
ing." 

Norton  gave  her  another  look,  laughing 
rather  more ;  and  then  he  came  and  stood 
close  beside  her. 

«  What  is  it,  Matilda  ?  "  he  asked. 


«  WHA  T  SHE   COULD?  317 

"I  don't  want  you  to  think  that  I  am 
good,"  she  said,  looking  up  earnestly  and 
timidly,  "  for  I  am  not ;  but  I  want  to  be ;  and 
being  baptized  is  a  sign  of  belonging  to  the 
Lord  Jesus,  so  I  want  to  be  baptized." 

"  It  isn't  a  sign  of  anything  good,"  said 
Norton.  "  Lots  of  people  are  baptized,  that 
aren't  anything  else,  I  know.  Lots  of  them, 
Matilda.  That  don't  change  them." 

"  No,  that  don't  change  them,  Norton  ;  but 
when  they  are  changed,  then  the  Bible  says 
they  must  be  baptized." 

"What  for?" 

"  It  is  just  telling  everybody  what  they 
believe,  and  what  they  are.  It's  a  sign." 

"  Then  when  you  are  baptized,  as  you 
mean  to  be,  that  will  be  telling  everybody 
what  you  believe  and  what  you  are  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  It  would  not  tell  me,"  said  Norton,  "  be- 
cause I  should  not  understand  the  sign.  I 
wish  you  would  tell  me  now  in  words,  Ma- 
tilda." 


3 1 8  "  WHA  T  SHE  CO  ULD." 

"  I  don't  know  if  I  can,  but  I'll  try.     You 
know  water  makes  things  clean,  Norton  ?  " 
"  Sometimes." 

u  Well  if  it  is  used  it  does,"  said  Matilda. 
"  The  water  is  a  sign  that  I  believe  the  Lord 
Jesus  will  take  away  my  sins  and  make  me 
clean,  and  good,  if  I  trust  him ;  that  he  will 
wash  my  heart,  and  that  he  has  begun  to  do 
it.  And  it  will  be  a  sign  that  I  am  his  ser- 
vant, because  that  is  what  he  has  commanded 
his  servants." 
"What?" 

"  That ;    to    be    baptized,    and    join    the 
church." 

"  Matilda,  a  great   many  people  are  bap- 
tized, and  keep  all  their  sins  just  the  same." 
"  O,  but  those  are  make-believe  people." 
"  No,  they  are  not ;  they  are  real  people." 
"  I  mean,  they  are  make-believe  Christians.'* 
"  How  do  you  know  but  you  are  ?  " 
"  I  think  I   know,"  said  Matilda,  looking 
down. 

"  But   other   people   won't    know.      Your 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD?  319 

being  baptized  will  not  mean  anything  to 
them,  only  that  somebody  has  coaxed  you 
into  it." 

"  It  will  mean  all  that,  Norton  ;  and  if  I  am 
true  they  will  see  it  means  all  that." 

"  They  might  see  it  all  the  same  without 
your  being  baptized.  What  difference  would 
that  make?" 

"  It  is  obedience"  said  Matilda  firmly. 
"  And  not  to  do  it  would  be  disobedience. 
And  it  is  profession  of  faith  ;  and  not  to  do 
it,  would  be  to  say  that  I  don't  believe." 

Norton  looked  amused,  and  pleased,  and  a 
little  puzzled. 

"  You  have  not  told  me  anything  about 
you,  after  all,"  he  said ;  "  for  I  knew  it  all 
before." 

"  How  did  you  know  it?  " 

"  Not  this  about  your  being  baptized,  you 
know,  but  about  you," 

"  What  about  me  ?  " 

"  I  say,  Matilda,  when  will  you  come  and 
play  croquet  again  ?  " 


320  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

"  I  don't  know.  But  oh,  Norton,  I  must 
go  now.  I  forgot  all  about  it.  And  there 
<vas  something  else  I  wanted  to  say.  I  wish 
f  ou  would  be  a  servant  of  Jesus  too  ?  " 

Matilda  gave  this  utterance  a  little  timidly. 
But  Norton  only  looked  at  her  and  smiled? 
and  finally  closed  the  question  by  taking  her 
in  his  arms  and  giving  her  two  kisses  thia 
time.  It  was  done  without  a  bit  of  shame- 
facedness  on  his  part,  and  with  the  energy 
and  the  tenderness  too  of  affection.  Matilda 
was  extremely  astonished  and  somewhat  dis- 
composed; but  the  evident  kindness  excused 
the  freedom,  and  on  the  whole  she  found 
nothing  to  object.  Norton  opened  the  iron 
gate  for  her,  and  she  hurried  off  homewards 
without  another  word. 

In  a  dream  of  pleasure  she  hurried  along, 
feeling  that  Norton  Laval  was  a  great  gain 
to  her,  and  that  croquet  was  the  most  delight- 
ful of  amusements,  and  that  all  the  weariness 
of  the  day's  work  was  taken  out  of  her  heart. 
She  only  regretted,  as  she  went,  that  those 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD:1  321 

poor  people  in  Lilac  lane  had  heard  no  read- 
ing ;  but  she  resolved  she  would  go  to  them 
to-morrow. 

There  is  one  time,  however,  for  doing  every- 
thing that  ought  to  be  done  ;  and  if  that  time 
ifj  lost,  no  human  calculation  can  make  sure 
a  second  opportunity.  Matilda  was  to  find 
this  in  the  case  of  Lilac  lane.  The  next  day 
weather  kept  her  at  home.  The  second  day 
she  was  too  busy  to  go  on  such  an  expedition. 
The  third  was  Sunday.  And  when  Monday 
came,  all  thoughts  of  what  she  had  intended 
to  do  were  put  out  of  her  head  by  her  mother's 
condition.  Mrs.  Englefield  was  declared  to 
be  seriously  ill. 

The  doctor  was  summoned.  Her  fever 
had  taken  a  bad  turn,  he  said.  It  was  a  very 
bad  turn  ;  for  after  a  few  days  it  was  found 
to  be  carrying  her  swiftly  to  death's  door. 
She  was  unable  to  see  her  children,  or  at 
least  unable  to  recognize  and  speak  to  them, 
until  the  very  last  day ;  and  then  too  feeble. 
And  the  Sunday  when  Matilda  had  expected 
21 


322  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

to  be  baptized,  saw  her  mother's  funeral  in- 
stead. 

Anne  and  Letitia  came  up  from  New 
York,  but  were  obliged  to  return  thither  im- 
mediately after  the  funeral ;  and  the  two 
younger  girls  were  left  to  their  grief.  It  was 
well  for  them  now  that  they,  had  plenty  of 
business,  plenty  of  active  work  on  hand.  It 
was  a  help  to  Maria  ;  after  a  little  it  diverted 
her  thoughts  and  took  her  out  of  the  strain  of 
sorrow.  And  it  was  a  help  to  Matilda,  but 
in  a  more  negative  way.  It  kept  the  child 
from  grieving  herself  ill,  or  doing  herself  a 
mischief  with  violent  sorrow ;  it  was  no  re- 
lief. In  every  unoccupied  moment,  whenever 
the  demands  of  household  business  left  her 
free  to  do  what  she  would,  the  little  girl  bent 
beneath  her  burden  of  sorrow.  Kneeling  be- 
fore her  open  Bible,  her  tears  flowed  inces- 
santly every  moment  when  the  luxury  of  indul- 
gence could  be  allowed  them.  Mrs.  Candy 
did  not  see  the  whole  of  this  ;  she  was  rarely 
in  the  girls'  room ;  yet  she  saw  enough  to 


WHAT  SHE   COULD."  323 

oecome  uneasy,  and  tried  all  that  she  knew  to 
remedy  it.  Clarissa  was  kind,  to  her  utmost 
power  of  kindness.  Even  Maria  was  stirred 
to  try  some  soothing  for  her  little  sister.  But 
Matilda  could  not  be  soothed.  Maria's  in- 
stances and  persuasions  did  however  at  last 
urge  her  to  the  point  of  shewing  a  part  of  her 
thoughts  and  disclosing  the  thorn  that  pressed 
sharpest  on  her  mind.  It  was,  that  she  had 
not  pleased  her  mother  by  doing  her  best  in 
the  studies  she  had  pursued  at  school.  Ma- 
tilda had  always  been  a  little  self-indulgent ; 
did  not  trouble  herself  with  study ;  made  no 
effort  to  reach  or  keep  a  good  place  in  her 
classes.  Mrs.  Englefield  had  urged  and  com- 
manded her  in  vain.  Not  obstinately,  but 
with  a  sort  of  gay  carelessness,  Matilda  had 
let  these  exhortations  slip;  had  studied  when 
she  was  interested,  and  lagged  behind  her 
companions  in  the  pursuits  she  found  dry. 
And  now,  she  could  not  forgive  herself  nor 
cease  her  sorrowing  on  account  of  this  failure. 
Maria  in  despair  at  last  took  Mrs.  Candy 


324  "WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

into  her  confidence,  and  besought  her  to  com- 
fort Matilda.  Which  Mrs.  Candy  tried  her 
best  to  do.  She  represented,  that  Matilda 
had  always  been  a  good  child ;  had  loved 
and  honoured  her  mother,  and  constantly 
enjoyed  her  favour.  Matilda  heard,  but 
answered  with  sobs. 

"  I  am  sure,  my  dear,"  her  aunt  said,  "  you 
have  nothing  to  reproach  yourself  with.  We 
are  none  of  us  perfect." 

"  I  didn't  do  what  I  could,  aunt  Candy ! " 
was  Matilda's  answer. 

"  My  dear,  hardly  anybody  —  the  best  of 
us — does  all  he  might  do." 

«  T  will,"  —  said  Matilda. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

f  I^HIS  could  not  last  always,  and  the  days 
as  they  passed,  after  a  while,  brought 
their  usual  soothing. 

The  quiet  routine  of  the  early  spring  began 
to  come  in  again.  Mrs.  Candy  was  looking 
for  a  girl,  she  said,  but  had  not  found  one 
yet ;  Maria  and  Matilda  were  not  ready  to 
go  to  school;  they  were  better  getting  the 
breakfast  and  washing  up  the  dishes  than 
doing  nothing.  No  doubt  that  was  true. 

"  Tilly,"  said  Maria  one  of  these  days,  when 
the  coffee  cups  were  getting  put  in  order, 
going  out  of  Maria's  tub  of  hot  water  into 
Matilda's  hands  and  napkin, —  "Tilly!  you 
know  next  Sunday  there  is  to  be  a  baptism 
in  the  church?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Matilda. 


3  26  "  WHA  T  SHE  COULD. 

It  was  weeks  after  that  other  Sunday,  when 
the  rite  had  not  been  administered.  Spring 
had  come  forward  rapidly  since  then.  Trees 
were  in  full  leaf;  dandelions  in  the  grass; 
flowers  were  in  the  woods,  though  the  two 
sisters  had  not  gone  to  see  them  this  year ; 
the  apple  orchards  around  Shady  walk  were 
in  a  cloud  of  pink  blossoms ;  and  the  sun 
was  warm  upon  flower  and  leaf  everywhere. 

"  Who  is  going  to  be  baptized  ? "  Maria 
went  on. 

"  I  don't  know.  At  least,  I  don't  know 
all." 

"  Ailie  Swan  is,"  remarked  Maria. 

"  Yes,  I  know  Ailie  Swan  is." 

«  And  Frances  Earth." 

Matilda  was  silent. 

"  And  Esther  Trembleton  —  and  George 
Rice,  and  Mary  and  Willie  Edwards." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Matilda. 

"  You  are  not,  are  you  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  was  going  to  be,"  said  Ma- 
tilda. "  I  am  now." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  327 

"  Tilly,  it  would  be  no  harm  if  you  waited 
till  another  time." 

"  Why  should  I  wait  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  wait,"  said  Maria. 

«  Why  ?  " 

"  Why,  because  I  don't  feel  like  it.  Not 
now." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  wait,"  said  Matilda. 
And  probably  she  was  going  to  say  more, 
but  her  lip  trembled  and  she  stopped. 

"  It  would  be  no  harm,  Tilly,  if  you  waited. 
Nobody  would  expect  it  of  us  now.  Nobody 
would  expect  it,  Tilly." 

"  I  think  One  would,"  —  said  Matilda. 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  Jesus." 

"But  Tilly,"  said  Maria  uneasily,  "I 
don't  think  so.  It  could  not  be  pleasant  for 
you  and  me,  you  know,  to  go  forward  and  be 
baptized  now.  We  might  wait  till  another 
time ;  and  then  it  would  be  more  easy, 
wouldn't  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  hard  now,"  said  Matilda.     «  It 


328  «  WHA  T  SHE  CO  ULD" 

is  pleasant  now.  I  do  not  wish  to  put  it 
off." 

"  Pleasant  ?  "  repeated  Maria. 

"  Yes,"  said  her  little  sister  quietly,  lifting 
her  eyes  to  Maria's  face  so  steadily  and 
gravely  that  the  other  changed  her  ground. 

"  But  at  least  it  is  not  duty,  Matilda." 

Matilda  had  dried  all  the  cups,  and  she 
threw  her  napkin  down  and  covered  her  face. 

"O  yes!"  she  said,  — "it  is  duty  and 
pleasure  too.  I'll  do  what  I  can." 

"  But  what  does  it  signify,  your  doing  it?" 
said  Maria.  "  It  isn't  anything.  And  it  will 
look  so  odd  if  you  do  and  I  don't." 

Matilda  took  up  her  napkin  again  and 
went  to  work  at  the  plates. 

"  Matilda,  I  wish  you  would  wait.  I  am 
not  ready  to  go  now." 

"  But  I  am  ready,  Maria." 

"  If  I  was  to  tell  aunt  Candy,  I  believe  she 
would  put  a  stop  to  it,"  said  Maria  sulkily. 
"  I  know  she  does  not  think  much  of  such 
young  people  doing  such  things." 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  329 

"  But  Jesus  said.  Let  them  come." 

Maria  tossed  her  head.  However  she  did 
not  speak  to  Mrs.  Candy. 

So  it  was  with  no  notion  of  Matilda's  in- 
tention that  her  aunt  that  Sunday  took  her 
seat  in  Mr.  Richmond's  church.  She  had 
heard  that  a  number  of  people,  most  of  them 
young  people,  were  to  be  baptized  in  the 
evening;  she  had  been  to  her  own  church  duly 
in  the  morning, 'and  thought  she  might  gratify 
her  curiosity  now  in  seeing  how  these  things 
are  managed  in  a  different  communion.  She 
and  Clarissa  went  alone,  not  supposing  that 
the  younger  ones  of  the  family  were  at  that 
same  moment  getting  ready  to  follow. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  dress  yourself,  Ma- 
tilda ?  "  her  sister  inquired. 

"To  dress  myself!  "said  Matilda,  turning 
her  eyes  upon  her  sister  in  astonished  fashion. 

"  Why  yes,  child !  you  will  go  out  there  in 
sight  of  everybody,  you  know.  Aren't  you 
going  to  put  on  a  white  frock  ?  Clarissa  says 
they  always  do  in  '  her  church.'  " 


330  "  WHAT  SHE   COULD." 

Matilda  looked  down  at  her  own  black 
dress  and  burst  into  tears ;  only  by  a  vigorous 
effort  she  kept  the  tears  from  falling,  after  the 
first  one  or  two,  and  hurriedly  and  silently 
began  to  get  herself  ready. 

"But  Matilda!  why  don't  you  speak?" 
said  her  sister.  "  Are  you  going  just  so  ?  and 
why  don't  you  speak  to  me  ?  There  is  no 
harm  in  a  white  frock." 

"  I  don't  want  a  white  frock,"  said  Matilda. 
"  Bo  you  mean  to  stay  at  home  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  am  going,"  said  Maria,  be- 
ginning slowly  her  own  preparations.  "  Peo- 
ple would  think  odd  if  I  didn't  go.  Where 
are  you  going  to  sit  ?  " 

«  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Why  you  are  very  stupid.  I  mean,  where 
are  you  going  to  sit  ?  " 

"  Where  we  always  do,  I  suppose." 

"  But  then  you  would  have  so  far  to 
walk." 

"  To  walk  ?  "  Matilda  repeated,  bewildered. 

"  Why  yes,  child !     When  you  are  called  to 


"WHAT  SHE  COULD:          331 

go  up  with  the  rest,  you  know ;  you  would 
have  so  far  to  go." 

"  O ! "  —  said  Matilda.     "  What  of  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  care  ?  " 

"  Why  no.     It  don't  make  any  difference." 

"  Well,  I'd  have  a  white  frock,  if  I  were 
you,"  said  Maria.  "  Being  in  black  is  no  ob- 
jection to  that ;  for  people  do,  just  the  same, 
Matilda,  for  a  baptism." 

"  You  will  be  late,  Maria,"  was  all  the 
answer  her  little  sister  made. 

And  they  were  late.  Matilda  was  ready 
and  waiting,  before  Maria's  slow  preparations 
were  made.  They  walked  quick,  but  service 
had  begun  in  the  church  before  they  got  there. 
They  paused  in  the  vestibule  till  a  prayer 
should  be  ended.  And  here  Matilda  was 
seized  upon. 

"  I  thought  you  were  not  coming,"  said  an 
earnest  whisper.  "  What  made  you  come  so 
late  ?  "  It  was  Norton  Laval. 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,"  said  Matilda. 

"  And  when  you  came,  I  all  but  missed 


332  "  WHA  T  SHE  CO  ULD." 

you.  They  said  all  of  you  —  you  know  — 
would  be  in  white  dresses ;  and  I  was  looking 
out  for  white.  Aren't  you  going  to  be  bap- 
tized, after  all  ?" 

"  O  yes,  Norton." 

"  Well  here's  some  flowers  for  you,"  said 
the  boy,  putting  a  bunch  of  white  heath  and 
lilies  into  Matilda's  hand.  "  Mamma  is  here 
—  up  in  the  Dawsons'  pew  —  it  was  sold  with 
the  place,  so  we've  got  it.  Come  there,  Ma- 
tilda, it  will  be  a  good  place  for  you  ;  youfs  is 
farther  back,  you  know.  Mamma  told  me  to 
bring  you." 

Maria  had  gone  in,  after  an  impatient  whis- 
per to  her  sister.  And  Matilda  yielded  to  a 
secret  inclination  and  followed  Norton. 

The  service  of  baptism  was  not  entered  into 
until  the  close  of  the  evening.  During  one 
of  the  intervals  of  the  usual  service,  which 
preceded  the  other,  Matilda  questioned  with 
herself  if  she  really  would  have  done  better 
to  put  on  a  white  dress  ?  Everybody  seemed 
to  expect  it.  She  could  not,  from  the  Daw 


11  WHAT  SHE  COULD."  333 

eon  pew,  which  was  a  corner  front  one,  see 
how  her  companions  were  dressed.  But  she 
presently  recollected  that  the  "  fine  linen," 
which  Mr.  Richmond  had  talked  to  them 
about,  "is  the  righteousness  of  saints;"  and 
ohe  quieted  herself  with  the  assurance  that 
the  real  attire  of  fitness  is  inward  and  not 
outward.  And  when  the  candidates  for 
baptism  were  called  to  come  forward,  she 
quietly  left  her  bunch  of  lilies  with  her  hat  on 
the  cushion  of  the  pew. 

"  Is  that  Matilda ! "  whispered  Clarissa  to 
her  mother. 

"  I  never  heard  a  word  of  it !  "  said  Mrs. 
Candy. 

"  You  cannot  stop  her  now." 

"  No  —  if  I  could  I  would,"  answered  Mrs. 
Candy.  "  This  ought  not  to  be.  Such  a 
child!  —  does  not  know  what  she  is  doing 
What  a  way !  " 

But  Matilda  knew  what  she  was  doing ; 
and  when  the  candidates  were  asked  respect- 
ing their  faith  and  profession,  there  was  no 


334  "WHAT  SHE   COULD? 

voice  among  them  all  that  answered  more 
clear  and  free  ;  none  that  promised  with  more 
calm  distinctness  to  "  keep  God's  holy  will 
and  commandments,  and  walk  in  the  same, 
all  the  days  of  her  life."  And  it  was  a  meek 
little  face,  without  a  cloud  or  a  doubt  upon  it, 
that  was  raised  towards  Mr.  Richmond  when 
her  turn  came. 

There  was  a  long  line  of  candidates  for 
baptism,  reaching  nearly  from  one  end  to  the 
other  of  the  communion  rails.  Mr.  Richmond 
stood  near  one  end,  by  the  font,  and  did  not 
change  his  place ;  so  each  pne,  as  he  or  she 
received  the  rite,  passed  to  one  side,  while  the 
place  was  filled  by  another.  Without  break- 
ing the  rank  this  was  done;  one  set  slowly 
edging  along  from  left  to  right,  while  from 
right  to  left,  one  by  one,  the  others  came  to 
take  their  turn.  It  was  a  pretty  sight.  So 
some  thought ;  but  there  were  varieties  of 
opinion. 

One  variety  Matilda  had  to  encounter  that 
night  before  she  slept.  Going  back  to  Mrs. 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD?  335 

Laval's  pew  to  get  her  hat  and  flowers,  nat- 
urally she  walked  home  with  her  and  Norton, 
and  had  no  annoyance  until  she  got  there. 
As  she  went  through  the  hall  the  parlour  door 
opened  and  she  was  called  in. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,   Matilda,"   said 
Mrs.  Candy  ;  "  and  I  think  it  is  proper  to  do 
it  at  once.    I  want  to  know  about  this.    How 
long  have  you  been  preparing  for  this  step 
you  have  taken  to-night  ?  " 
"  Ma'am  ?  "  said  Matilda. 
"  How  long   have   you   been   thinking  of 
doing  this?" 

"  O,  a  long  while,  aunt  Candy." 
"  "Why  did  you  not  consult  me  ?  " 
Her  mother  would   have  been  the  one  to 
speak  to  about  it,  and  her  mother  had  been 
too   ill.       Remembering   this,   Matilda   stood 
silent  and  her  eyes  filled. 

"  You  have  been  intending  it  for  these  two 
months  past  ?  " 

"  Yes,  aunt  Candy ;  and  before." 

"  Well  then,  why  did  you  not  speak  to  me  ?  " 


336  "WHAT  SHE  COULD." 

"  I  spoke  to  Mr.  Richmond." 

"  Mr.  Richmond  might  have  had  the  cour- 
tesy, himself."  (Which  Mr.  Richmond  had 
meant  to  do,  but  various  pressing  matters  had 
prevented.)  "  But  you  ought  to  have  spoken 
to  me,  Matilda.  You  are  too  young  a  child 
to  take  such  responsibility." 

Matilda  did  not  think  of  anything  to  say  to 
this. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  understand  what  you 
have  been  doing." 

«  I  think  I  do,  aunt  Candy." 

"  What  did  you  want  to  be  baptized 
for?" 

"  Because  Jesus  says  we  must." 

"  Yes,  properly ;  but  not  improperly,  with- 
out knowing  what  you  do.  What  do  you 
ihink  it  means,  Matilda  ?  " 

"  To  be  baptized,  aunt  Erminia  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  It  means,"  said  the  child  steadily  and 
with  the  clear  utterance  of  pleasure,  —  "  that 
I  belong  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ" 


"WHAT  SHE   COULD."  337 

"  There  !  "  said  Clarissa,  appealing  to  her 
mother. 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  Mrs.  Candy.  "  That 
is  not  what  it  means,  Matilda." 

"  It  is  what  I  mean,  aunt  Candy." 

"  It  means  a  great  deal  more,  my  dear, 
which  you  cannot  understand.  And  you 
ought  to  have  had  a  white  dress  on." 

"  I  don't  think  God  cares,"  said  Matilda. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  such  dreadful  teaching 
as  these  people  have  ?  "  said  the  mother  ap- 
pealing to  the  daughter.  "  My  dear,  there 
is  a  propriety  in  things.  And  not  one  of 
the  candidates  this  evening  was  dressed  in 
white." 

"  But  the  water  means  a  clean  heart,"  said 
Matilda ;  "  and  if  we  have  that,  God  will 
think  we  are  dressed  in  white." 

"  So  you  think  you  have  a  clean  heart?  " 

"  I  think  Jesus  has  begun  to  make  it  clean." 

"  And  what  does  it  mean,  to  renounce  the 
devil  and  all  his  works  ?  " 

"  It  means,"  said  Matilda  sighing,  —  "  to 
22 


338  "WHAT  SHE  COULD? 

have  nothing  to  do  with  anything  that  is 
wrong." 

"  How  is  such  a  child  as  you  to  know  what 
is  wrong  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  Bible,  aunt  Candy." 

"  What  is  the  vain  pomp  and  glory  of  the 
world  ?  " 

«I  don't  know,"  said  Matilda.  "All  the 
glory,  I  suppose,  except  what  God  gives." 

« What  does  lie  give,  child  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Candy,  with  an  odd  expression  on  her  face. 

"  Why  you  know,  aunt  Erminia,"said  Ma- 
tilda, a  little  wearily. 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  you  tell." 

"  I  can't  tell,"  said  Matilda.  « I  think  it 
was  glory,  when  he  said  of  that  poor  woman, 
«  She  hath  done  what  she  could.'  " 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Candy,  after  a  pause, 
"  I  am  very  sorry  you  have  taken  this  step 
without  consulting  me.  Your  answers  shew 
that  you  have  not  the  discrimination  neces- 
sary for  making  such  vows.  However,  it  v 
too  late  now.  You  may  go  to  bed." 


«  WHAT  SHE  COVLD."  339 

"Which  Matilda  did,  and  speedily  forgot  all 
that  had  troubled  her  in  her  aunt's  words. 
For  she  went  to  sleep  making  a  pillow  to  her 
head  of  those  other  words,  — 

"  And  white  robes  were  given  to  every  one 
of  them." 


abridge :  Press  of  John  Wilson  and  ! 


Uniform  with  this  Volume. 

I. 

OPPORTUNITIES.     A  Sequel  to  "What  She 
Could."    16mo.    3  Illustrations.    $1.25. 


n. 

THE    HOUSE     IN     TOWN.       A    Sequel    to 

"Opportunities."    16mo.    3  Illustrations.    $1.25. 


ROBERT  CARTER  AND  BROTHERS, 

630  Broadway,  New  York. 


Any  Book  on  this  list  'sent  by  mail,  postage  prefaidt  on 
receipt  of  the  Price. 


530  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK. 
October,  1872. 


ROBERT    CARTER    &    BROTHERS' 

NEW     BOOKS. 


BY    THE    AUTHOR    OF    "WIDE    WIDE    WORLD." 

Trading. 

By  Miss  Warner,  being  the  conclusion  of  the  series  of  which 
"What  She  Could,"  "  Opportunities,"  and  "  House  in  Town," 
were  the  previous  volumes.  i6mo.  $1.25. 

Uniform  with  this. 

i.  WHAT  SHE  COULD .    . $1-25 

a.  OPPORTUNITIES 1.25 

3.  HOUSE  IN  TOWN ••    1.25 

The  above  four  volumes  in  a  neat  box,  under  the  title  of 

A  Story  of  Small  Beginnings.    $5-oo. 

"  Miss  Warner  has  written  more  absorbing  works,  but  she  has  not  excelled  tin 
series  she  is  now  producing,  in  life-likeness,  and  practical  helpfulness  for  the  younj 
reader." 


The  Well  in  the  Desert. 

An  old  Legend  of  the  House  of  Arundel,  by  Emily  Sara! 
Holt,  author  of  "  Isoult  Barry,"  and  May  Lane,  a  Tale  ol 
the  i6th  Century,  by  C.  M.  M.  The  two  in  one  volume. 
$1.25- 


CARTERS'  NEW  BOOKS. 


Robin   Tremayne. 

A  Tale  of  the  Marian  Persecution.     By  Emily  Sarah  Holt 
By  the  same  A  uthor. 

Isoult.  Barry  of  Wynscote. 
A  Tale  of  Tudor  Times.     $1.50. 

Ashcliffe  Hall. 

A  Tale  of  the  Last  Century.     $1.25. 

"  Whether  it  is  regarded  in  its  historical  or  its  religious  aspect,  '  Isoult  Barry 
of  Wynscote  '  is  the  finest  contribution  to  English  literature,  of  its  peculiar  class, 
which  has  been  made  in  the  present  century."  — American  Baptist. 

Studies  of  Character. 

(Old  Testament.)  By  the  Rev.  Dr.  Guthrie.  First  and 
Second  Series  in  one  volume.  $1.50. 

Bogatzky's  Golden   Treasury. 

Red  Line  Edition.     Superfine  paper,  cloth,  gilt. 

Kitty  and  Lulu  Books. 

By  Joanna  H.  Mathews,  author  of  the  "  Bessie  Books." 

1.  TOUTOU  AND  PUSSY $1.10 

2.  KITTY'S  ROBINS i.io 

3.  THE  WHITE  RABBIT i.io 

4.  RUDIE'S  GOAT.    (Preparing.) x.io 

By  the  same  Author. 

The  Bessie  Books. 

6  volumes.    In  a  box.    $7.50. 

The  Flowerets. 

6  volumes.    In  a  box.    $3.60. 

Little  Sunbeams. 

6  volumes.     In  a  box.     $6.00. 

"  The  faculty  of  writing  suitable  books  for  young  children  is  not  a 
one.    Miss  Mathews  possesses  it  in  a  high  degree."  —  Lutheran  Observer, 


CARTERS'  NEW  BOOKS. 


Had  Ton  Been  in  His  Place. 

A  powerful  and  admirable  Temperance  Story.     By  Lizzie 
Bates.     i6mo.    $1.25. 

The  Curate's  Home. 

By  Agnes  Giberne,  author  of  "  Aimee,"  &c.     $1.35. 
By  the  same  Author. 

Aimee. 

A  Tale  of  the  Days  of  James  the  Second.     I2mo.     $1.75. 

The  Day  Star; 

Or,  The   Gospel   Story  for  the  Little  Ones.      16   tinted 

illustrations.     $1.25. 

Who    Won. 

By  the  author  of  "Win  and  Wear."     i6mo.     $1.25. 

By  the  same  Author. 

WIN  AND  WEAR  SERIES.    6  vols $7-50 

THE  LEDGESIDE  SERIES.    6  vols. 7.5° 

THE  GREEN  MOUNTAIN  STORIES.    5  vols. 6.00 

BUTTERFLY'S  FLIGHTS.    3  vols .    2.25 


Only  Ned; 

Or,  Grandma's  Message.  By  Jennie  M.  Drinkwater. 
i6mo.  $i  25. 

The  Warrior  Judges. 

By  the  Rev.  Dr.  Macduff.     i6mo.     3  illustrations.     $1.00. 

The  Beatitudes  of  the  Kingdom. 

By  the  Rev.  J.  O&wald  Dykes.     i6mo.     $1.25. 

The  Kings  of  Israel  and  Judah. 

Their  History  explained  to  Children.  By  the  author  of 
the  "  Peep  of  Day."  27  illustrations.  $1.50. 

"  We  commend  every  parent  and  every  Sunday-school  teacher  in  the  land  to 
get  a  copy.  It  is  needless  to  speak  of  the  delightful  way  in  which  the  authot 
treats  the  subject."  —  .?.  S.  Times. 


CARTERS'  NEW  BOOKS. 


Thought-Hives. 

(Third  Thousand.)  By  the  Rev.  T.  L.  CUYLER,  author  of 
"The  Empty  Crib,"  "Cedar  Christian,"  &c.  Portrait  by 
Ritchie.  $1.75. 

"  Dr.  Cuyler  crowds  many  thoughts  into  few  words.  He  makes  dry  bones 
live ;  his  words  are  sermons,  his  sentences  shafts  of  light."  —  Baptist  Union. 

The  Song  of  the  New  Creation, 

And  Other  Pieces.  By  Horatius  Bonar,  D.D.  i6mo. 
$1.25- 

"  All  the  sweetest  characteristics  of  Dr.  Bonar's  previous  volumes  of  sacred 
poetry  are  reproduced  in  this  new  collection.  No  hymn-writer  of  this  century  has 
surpassed  him  in  rendering  the  spirit  and  life  of  the  Word  of  God  into  verse."  — 
Christian  Intelligencer- 

The  Wars  of  the  Huguenots. 

By  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hanna.     I2mo.     $1.50. 

Saint  Paul  in  Rome; 

Or,  The  Teachings,  Fellowships,  and  Dying  Testimony 
of  the  Great  Apostle  in  the  City  of  the  Caesars.  By  J.  R. 
Macduff,  D.D.  i6mo.  $1.25. 

Jacobus1  Commentaries. 

New  Editions,  at  reduced  prices. 

GENESIS.    2  vols  in  one $1-50 

MATTHEW  AND  MARK 1.50 

LUKE  AND  JOHN 1.50 

ACTS 1.50 

*  Question  Books  adapted  to  each.    Per  dozen 1.80 

The  Scots  Worthies. 

By  John  Howie.  With  more  than  100  illustrations.  Tirted 
paper,  gilt  edges.  $3.50. 

Christianity  and  Positivism. 

A  Series  of  Lectures  by  Dr.  McCosh.     Fifth  thousand. 


CARTERS'  NEW  BOOKS. 


Tales  of  Christian  Life. 

By  the  author  of  the  "  Schonberg-Cotta  Family."    5  vols. 
In  box.    $5.00. 

CRIPPLE  OF  ANTIOCH.  I  Two  VOCATIONS. 

MARTYRS  OF  SPAIN.  TALES  AND  SKETCHES. 

WANDERINGS  OVER  BIBLE  LANDS. 

"  This  new  and  tasteful  edition  of  these  charming  books,  as  good  as  they  are 
delightful,  will  make  them  more  than  ever  popular."  —  Advance. 

Nature's    Wonders. 

By  the  Rev.  Dr.  Newton,   author  of  "Bible  Wonders," 
"  Great  Pilot,"  "  Safe  Compass,"  &c.     i6mo.    $1.25. 

By  the  same  Author. 

THE  JEWEL  CASE.    6  vols $7.50 

BIBLE  WONDERS 1.25 

RILLS  FROM  THE  FOUNTAIN   . 1.25 

JEWISH  TABERNACLE 1.25 


Dr.  Chalmers*   Sermons. 

Cheap  Edition.  2  volumes  in  i.  1105  double  column 
pages.  Price  reduced  to  $3.00. 

Charnock  on  the  Attributes. 

New  and  Cheap  Edition.  2  volumes  in  i;  containing 
1149  large  8vo  pages.  Price  reduced  to  $3.00. 

McCheyne's  Works. 

Cheap  and  Neat  Edition.  Comprising  his  Life,  Letters, 
Lectures,  and  Sermons.  2  volumes  in  i.  1074  pages.  8vo. 
Price  reduced  to  $3.00. 

Family  Worship. 

A  series  of  Prayers  for  Morning  and  Evening  throughout 
the  year.  New  Edition,  at  half  the  former  price.  $2.50. 

Life  of  Christ. 

By  William  Hanna,  D.D.    3  vols.     I2mo.     $4.50. 


CARTERS'   NEW  BOOKS. 


Kitto's  Bible  Illustrations. 
The  8  volumes  in  4.     $7.00. 

Busy  Bees  in  Margaret  RusseTs  School. 

By  the  author  of  "  Squire  Downing's  Heirs."    $1.35. 

Doivn  the  Steps. 

By  the  same  author.     $1.25. 

Conant  Farm. 

By  the  same  author.     $1.25. 

Squire  DoTvning's  Heirs. 
By  the  same  author.     $1.25. 

Grandfather's  Nell. 

By  the  same  author.     $1,25. 

Margaret  Russel's  School. 
By  the  same  author.     $1.25. 

Grandfather's  Faith. 

Being  the  first  of  the  "Dare  to  Do  Right"  series.     By 
Julia  A.  Mathews.     $1.10. 

Our  Four  Boys. 

The  second  of  the  "  Dare  to  Do  Right"  Series.     By  Julia 
A.  Mathews.     $1.10. 

Drayton  Hall  Series. 

Stories  on  the  Beatitudes.     By  Julia  A.  Mathews.    6  vols. 
In  a  box.     $4.50. 

The   Golden  Ladder  Series. 

By  Julia  A.  Mathews,  author  of  "Drayton  Hall"  Series. 
6  vols.     In  a  box.     $3.00. 

The  Golden  Cap. 

By  J.  De  Liefde-     "6mo-    Nine  engravings.     $1.25. 


CARTERS'  NEW  BOOKS, 


Clarie's  Little  Charge. 

By  the  author  of  "  Lonely  Lily."     i8mo.     $0.50. 

Little  Jac£s  Four  Lessons.    $0.60. 

Bending   Willow. 

A  Tale  of  Missionary  Life  in  the  Far  West.     By  Miss 
J.  G.  Fuller.     i6mo.     Three  illustrations.     $1.25. 

The  Primrose  Series. 

By  Emma  Marshall.     6  vols.     In  a  box.    $3.00. 

By  the  Rev.  P.  B.  Power. 

SAMBO'S  LEGACY .  $0.60 

THE  BAG  OF  BLESSINGS 0.60 

THE  BABB  AT  THE  WEDDING 0.60 

Ministering  Children  and  Sequel. 
Red  Line  Edition.     Price  reduced  to  $3x0. 

The  A.L.O.E.  Library. 

37  volumes,  uniform,  in  a  neat  wooden  case.     $28.00. 

New  A.L.O.E.  Vols. 

CHILDREN'S  TABERNACLE £o-75 

LADY  OF  PROVENCE 0.75 

A  BRAID  OF  CORDS o.yj 

GUY  DALESFORD .    0.75 

Our  Father  in  Heaven. 

By  the  Rev.  J.  H.  Wilson.     i6mo.     $1.25. 

The  Potato- Roaster,  and  Boy  Guardian. 
By  C.  E.  Bowen.     $0.60. 

Christie  El-wood  and  her  Friends. 
i6mo.     $1.00. 


CARTERS'  NEW  BOOKS. 


Rose  Marbury. 

By  S.  J.  Prichard.     $1.25. 

What  Shawny  did  to  the  Light  House. 
By  the  same.     i6mo.     $0.60. 
An  exquisitely  pretty  story,  which  will  delight  all  the  smaller  children. 

Daisy  Maynard's  Four  Promises. 
Three  illustrations.     i6mo.     $0.75. 

The  Lestrange  Family. 

A  True  Story.     By  Margaret  E.  Wilraer.     i6mo.     $l.oo. 

Fresh  Leaves. 

FROM  THE  BOOK  AND  ITS  STORY.     By  L.  N.  R.    With 
more  than  fifty  illustrations.     i2ino.     $2.00. 

The  Cash  Boy's  Trust. 
By  Annie  M.  Mitchell.    $1.00. 

Stellafont  Abbey. 

By  Emma  Marshall.    $1.00. 

Mat  and  Sojie. 

A  Child's  Book.    $0.35. 

We  got  Agate  of  Singing.    $0.35. 

The  Happy  Land. 

By  the  author  of  "  Lonely  Lily."    $0.35. 

Lionel  St.  Clair. 

By  L.  A.  Moncrief.     $0.75. 

Stories  of  Vinegar  Hill. 

By  Miss  Anna  Warner.    6  vols.    In  a  box.    $3.00. 


CARTERS'    BOOKS   FOR    THE    YOUNG. 


33g  tfjc  ^utfjor  of  tfje  "&nltren  ILaUUer 
Nellie's  Stumbling  Block. 

i6mo.     $1.25. 

Susy's  Sacrifice. 
161110.    $1.25. 

The  Green  Mountain  Stories. 

By  the  author  of  "  Win  and  Wear."  5  vols.  In  a  box. 
$6.00. 

The  -volumes  are  sold  separately,  viz,  :  — 
BINDING  THE  SHEAVES   ...............  $1-35 

WEIGHED  IN  THB  BALANCE    .............    i.as 

.EDGED  TOOLS     ..................    1.25 

GIRDING  ON  THE  ARMOR    ..............    1.25 

ROBERT  LINTON      .................    1.25 

"  These  volumes  are  from  the  pen  of  one  of  the  most  gifted  and  useful  of  oar 

writers  for  the  young.    The  stories  they  contain  are  interesting  and  instructive. 

The  vivacity  of  their  style  and  excellence  of  their  reading  will  make  them  wel- 

come additions  to  our  Sabbath  literature.    They  are  put  up  in  a  neat  box."  — 

Christian  Intelligencer. 

Little  Kitty's  Library. 

6  vols.     i8mo.     In  a  box.     $3.00. 

The  Lily  Series. 

By  Mrs.  Sherwood.    6  vols.     In  a  box.     $2.00. 

"  There  are  no  better  stories  for  the  young  than  Mrs.  Sherwood's.  We  hav6 
a  very  vivii  and  delightful  recollection  of  them,  as  we  read  and  enjoyed  them  in 
our  boyhood."  —  Christian  Herald. 

The  Rainbow  Series. 

By  the  Rev.  P.  B.  Power.    5  vols.    In  a  box.    Comprising 
LAST  SHILLING.  FAGOT  OF  STORIES. 

THREE  CRIPPLES.  STAMP  ON  IT,  JOHN. 

Two  BROTHERS. 

I  vols.    $3.00. 


10  C  IRTERS1    BOOKS   FOR    THE    YOUNG. 


Little  Effie's  Home. 

By  the  author  of  "  Bertie  Lee,"  "  Donald  Fraser,"  &c. 
4  Illustrations.  $1.25. 

"  This  story  is  very  gracefully  told."  —  Presbyterian. 
"  An  excellent  book  for  the  young."  —  Evangelist. 
"A  lively  story,  such  as  children  relish."  —T.L.C. 

Donald  JFraser. 

A  Story.  By  the  author  of  "Bertie  Lee,"  "Little  Effie," 
&c.  i6mo.  $1.00. 

"  One  of  ths  best  religious  books  we  have  read  in  many  a  day.  It  combines, 
with  a  wise  policy,  solid  Bible  instruction  with  an  entertaining  narrative  of  tho 
life  and  adventures  of  Donald  Fraser,  the  hero  of  the  book." — Missionary 
Transcript. 

The  Win  and   Wear  Series. 

6  vols.     In  a  neat  box.     $7.50. 

The  volumes  are  sold  separately,  viz. :  — 

WIN  AND  WEAR f  i>>5 

TONY  STARR 1.25 

FAITHFUL  AND  TRUK 1.25 

HED'S  MOTTO * 1.25 

TURNING  A  NEW  LEAF 1.23 

MY  NEW  HOME      .     . 1.25 

Ministering  Children  Library. 

Containing  "  Ministering  Children"  and  Sequel.    4  vois. 

l8mo.    In  a  box.    $3.00. 

MINISTERING  CHILDREN,     i  vol.  i2mo {1.50 

SEQUEL  TO  MINISTERING  CHILDREN,    i  vol.  izmo 1.50 

They  tell  of  children  who  minister  to  the  happiness  and  comfort  of  those  about 
them ;  of  children  that  bring  relief  to  the  poor,  joy  to  the  sad,  and  sympathy  to 
the  afflicted,  by  their  loving  deeds  and  gentle  words ;  of  children  that  are  youthful 
reformers ;  and  of  the  blessings  that  children,  by  such  ministries'  rf  'ove  and  charity 
may  bestow. 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


(LUC  CD 
JAN  22 

DUE2WKSI-KOMDA 


ABLE 

97 
KECEIVED 

/ILL 


